Strange Places
by So Much Tea
Summary: Emma Swan is only just getting to grips with the whole fairy-tale thing, let alone the villains. She's already defeated the Evil Queen. But the Evil Queen's mother is a new story entirely. Not to mention Captain Hook. She will do whatever she has to to take him out. Until one day she wakes up in an entirely different bed, only to find out she's married to him. Captain Swan.
1. Strange Places

Strange Places

* * *

Emma Swan sat in the Sheriff's station, her head in her hands. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there -maybe minutes, maybe hours- but she hadn't moved. Not a muscle. Not as the yellow sun passed over her face through the gap in the curtain. Not as it lit the faded colours of the room, and revealed the piles of paperwork, or the empty polystyrene coffee cups left abandoned all over the desk.

She scraped her fingers through her hair and resisted the urge to scream. She thought that once she knew about the curse, things would be easier. But that wasn't the case. Instead of being easy, everything suddenly turned much more difficult. Before, she was just dealing with people. Not _fairytale_ people.

Mainly, Captain Hook.

"We've searched the docks. He's nowhere to be found," David said heavily, sinking into the chair opposite her.

"His ship?" asked Emma.

"We searched that last week. He may be a pirate, but I doubt he'd be stupid enough to go there."

"We should search again," she said. She didn't mean her voice to sound so snappy, but everything seemed to be getting on her last nerve recently. "I mean, he was stupid enough to shoot Belle," she added, as a clarification. She didn't want to insinuate that David hadn't been trying hard enough, but she didn't want to rule out the possibility of the ship.

"And join forces with the enemy," David said, grimly. He placed his hands on his hips.

"David, he _is_ the enemy."

"I know that."

Emma ran her hands through her hair again. She needed to think.

They'd been looking for Hook for the past two weeks, after he broke out of hospital. Not only for his sake - it was a bad move to make after being hit by a car - but also for the safety of other Storybrooke residents. Though Hook seemed to have finished with inflicting misery on Belle, no-one knew if that was for sure. He may have lost her her memory, but who was to say his real motive wasn't to kill her? What if he came back to finish her off?

But it was proving hard to protect Belle when she couldn't even remember who shot her in the first place, or why. In fact, she was fully convinced her name was Lacey. It was all very strange. And as much as Emma would have liked to escape crazy cuckoo land, she was stuck playing the town's saviour.

Again.

The door flew open. Emma immediately reached for her gun, ready to put a bullet in his pirate brain if she had to.

But she needn't have worried.

Mary Margaret stood, pale and breathing heavily, in the doorway. Her hair stuck out in odd places and Emma had the strange desire to go over there and flatten it for her. Instead, she slipped her gun back in her belt.

Her heart didn't slow down. By the way Mary Margaret was breathing, she must have something big to tell them. She wouldn't have ran all this way for nothing.

"It's- Hook-" she gasped, clutching her side. "We've found him."

Emma jumped up from her desk. Paperwork fell around her like oddly shaped feathers. "You've found him?"

"You're sure?" said David, unable to hide his surprise. He exchanged a glance with Emma, eyebrows raised.

"Very. We've got him! Quick, come on!"

She disappeared out the door. David and Emma rushed after her, leaving the door wide open. They followed her out the station and down the street. Even though she was a deal shorter than both of them, they struggled to keep up. Mary Margaret dashed like a rabbit.

"Where is he?" asked Emma as they hurried past Gold's shop.

"Down at the docks."

"The docks? I thought we searched the docks?" She threw a sharp look at David, who suddenly looked very sheepish.

"We did," confirmed Mary Margaret. "But he was hiding on his ship."

"He went back to his _ship?"_ said David, wearing a strange smile. "Stupid pirate."

They followed her down to the docks. The sea sparkled in the sunlight, like millions of crystals were under the blue waters. Emma shielded her eyes from the sun. The wind whipped her hair about her face in whichever direction she turned.

She followed them onto Hook's ship. Her eyes traced the blue and yellow paintwork, chipped from hundred's of years worth of sailing. Creaking masts towered above them. Emma ran her hands over the thick rope. She wouldn't have told anyone this, but Captain Hook's ship awed her. Stood upon the wooden deck, with her hair lashing around her in the salty air, she was beginning to feel like a fairytale character.

"Where is he?" she called over the wind.

"In his cabin," said Mary Margaret. She made her way across the deck and down the stairs, followed closely by David.

"Right."

Emma and followed them down the steps, careful not to trip.

"Ah, Swan. How nice to see you," came a voice as soon as her boots touched the floor.

She turned around, arms folded, face set. "I'm sure it is."

She was surprised by the sight that greeted her. From the tone of Hook's voice, she half expected him to be prowling around the cabin, but instead he was tied to a chair, arms pulled behind his back. He looked enormous in the cabin, which was smaller than Emma anticipated. She had expected the Captain's room to be a little more glamorous and not so cramped. But if he suffered any discomfort, he didn't show it. In fact, he looked right at home.

Despite his manner, she had to admit he seemed a little worse for wear. His stubble was less stubble and more beard, he was sickly pale and there were purple shadows under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in a few days. Emma wondered where he _had_ been sleeping. He can't have been on his ship. When they searched it last time, he wasn't there.

On the streets, maybe? Dingy back alleys?

"He put up a fight," said Mary Margaret, grimly. Her arms were folded. She was watching Hook with her eyebrows raised, so much like her daughter.

Emma turned to Mary Margaret. "You got him singlehandedly? I'm impressed."

"I hit him over the head," she said. "With that vase." She nodded to pieces of an ugly, flowered pot which were scattered across the floor.

"I didn't think you were the vase type," Emma told Hook, a smirk playing around her lips.

"There are many things you don't know about me, love," Hook said, his voice like a purr. "For example, you're probably not aware that I am excellent at undoing knots… with my arms behind my back."

David took two heavy steps forward and drew his sword with a clang. He pointed it to Hook's throat. "You better be lying, pirate."

"Of course he's lying," scoffed Emma. "If he could have got out, he would have got out already."

"Is that so?" Hook challenged, but his voice shook a little. He swallowed. A bead of blood surfaced where the tip of the blade met his skin.

Emma turned to David. "We need to move him. He can't be imprisoned in his own ship. We need to get him to the sheriff's station."

"You're right."

"Now?" asked Mary Margaret.

"Now," Emma confirmed. "I've had his cell prepared for the past week."

"How thoughtful," said Hook, though his voice wasn't a purr anymore. It was a snarl. The thought made Emma smile. She was starting to believe nothing could get past that armour of his.

"Let's move."

They grouped around him, eyes on Hook. David threw his sword over to Emma. She immediately pointed it at his chest, just above that necklace he always wore.

"You try anything," he said to Hook. "And she runs you through. Clear?"

Hook gave a pained smile. "Crystal."

Without taking his eyes off the pirate in front of him, David crouched down beside the chair and began to untie the knots. When he was done he grabbed Hook by his leather collar and pulled him to his feet. Hook groaned in pain.

"Watch it," he snarled. "I still have a few broken ribs there."

"Maybe you shouldn't have shot Belle, then," said Emma. "Move."

He gave her a long look of not exactly hatred, but it wasn't pleasant either. It was a look of revenge and though Emma would never admit it, it chilled her to the bone. She'd seen what he'd do for revenge. If his stories were true, he'd been riding the revenge train for the past three hundred years. Though Emma was excellent at the whole unforgiving thing, she doubted she could hold a grudge for that long.

And suddenly, she pitied him.

David shoved him forward. Mary Margaret went first, up the hatch and out onto the deck, and then Hook followed, using his now free hand and hook. David next and finally, Emma. As soon as she stepped out up onto the deck, that familiar breeze turned her hair into a tornado.

"We need to get him back to the cell," David shouted over the wind. "Before the storm kicks in."

Together, they marched Hook off deck.

* * *

A few hours later, Emma sat in the sheriff's station. Her feet rested on the desk, next to a mountain of paperwork, and she sipped on black, sugarless coffee. She was facing away from Hook, who was trapped in the cell behind her. He hadn't made a sound since he arrived. When she glanced over at him to check he was still there, she saw he was sulking. He glared down at his hand and hook. His eyes looked darker than usual, probably because they were narrowed. Despite his stance, he was still as handsome as always. Emma hated herself for thinking so.

The door opened. They both looked up to see David walk in, carrying a bag of doughnuts.

"How's it going?" he asked as he threw the doughnuts down beside her.

Emma picked up the bag and peered inside. They smelled delicious, like the inside of a bakery.

"Things just got a whole lot better," she said, closing the bag back up.

"How've things been with-" he cocked his head in Hook's direction.

"I'm not bloody deaf," snapped the pirate.

"Oh, you know. He hasn't said much. Probably knows I'd just ignore him anyway."

"I _am_ here, you know."

Emma reached for a doughnut. She took a big bite, and lost herself in a world of sugar and icing. It was delicious. No-one made them like Granny did. She made a note to get them more often. They'd break up a day of sitting in the station, waiting for something to happen.

"You know, it's bad form to keep an innocent man locked up in the brig," came Hook's voice. "When are you going to let me out?"

"Innocent man?" Emma planted her feet firmly on the floor and turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "How'd you work that one out?"

"I didn't do anything wrong. The damn crocodile had it coming. You don't know how many lives he's destroyed, how many people he's hurt. He needed to suffer, to-"

"And yet you hurt Belle," Emma said.

"Aye. And in doing so, I've hurt him."

Emma sighed and ignored him. Instead, she turned to David who was glaring at Hook with his arms folded. "I don't think we should let him out for a while," she said. "You've heard how he's talking. He's dangerous."

"I agree," said David, frowning. "And we don't know if he's still working for Cora."

Cora. Emma had almost forgotten about Cora. They still didn't have any idea what she was planning. She'd _tried_ to ask Hook, when he was chained up in hospital, but she couldn't get anything out of him. But one thing she was sure about; when he said he didn't have any idea where Cora was, he was telling the truth.

But she couldn't take a chance.

"We'll keep him here," said Emma. "I don't know how for. But he's better in here than wandering the streets of Storybrooke."

"For everyone's sake and his own. Gold will probably kill him first chance he gets."

"Oh Dave, I didn't know you cared," simpered Hook from his cell.

Emma's eyes snapped to him. He was no longer sat, scowling at his hand. That hand was wrapped around a bar, his face resting against the cool metal.

David took slow steps towards him until they were nose-and-nose. He wrapped his own hands around the bars.

"Let's get this straight," he said in a low voice. "I don't care. Gold could come in and kill you right now and I wouldn't bat an eyelid. It would solve one of my problems. But we don't _do_ things that way. We believe that every life is worth saving, even yours. That's something someone like you will never understand."

"Someone like me?" snarled Hook. "And here I thought we were becoming _friends._ "

"David..." Emma warned.

"I will _never_ be friends with you. Do you hear me? You're selfish, you're stupid and quite frankly, you disgust me. I have fought people like you my whole life. But I do it properly. Morally."

"You have no idea the sacrifices I have made to-"

"Sacrifices? Gold took my _whole_ family from me. He created a curse that ripped me from my life - my _happy_ life. I was forced to send my only daughter through a wardrobe, and I missed twenty-eight years of her life. For those twenty-eight years I didn't even know who my _wife_ was. Where's my revenge plot? My desire to punish those who'd wrong me?"

Hook didn't say anything. He clenched his jaw and stared right into David's face. You could have cut through the tension with a knife. Then David turned away, his own face slowly turning a shade of purple. Hook's had lost all colour.

"I need some air," he murmured to Emma. "Enjoy the doughnuts."

He strode out the door and slammed it behind him. Emma winced at the noise. She'd never seen David so angry before. At least, not like this. She shrugged it off and sunk back into her chair. She'd hardly been sitting there a moment when-

"So it's just you and I, beautiful."

She closed her eyes and sighed. Did he never give it a rest? The last thing she wanted was Hook to get to her as well. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. If she didn't talk to him then maybe he'd just go back to sulking quietly.

"I love the silent types."

She kept her lips tightly closed.

"And I love a challenge."

On the word challenge, her eyes snapped open. She couldn't help herself. She turned around to face him. He was still in the same position, staring at her intently. His rings glittered in the light.

"David was right, y'know," she said.

"Interesting how you still call him David, even though you're aware that he's your father. Now, I'm not judging, sweetheart. You and I are very alike in that respect. We both have atrocious fathers-"

"He's not a bad dad," she snapped. In fact, she couldn't really see him as a dad at all. She was trying, but she was struggling. Still, he was her family. He always had been, since she stepped foot in Storybrooke. Him and Mary Margaret.

Hook smirked. "Hit a nerve, have I?"

"Like I was saying, David was right," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "You may think you need revenge, but you don't."

"Then, indulge me. What - exactly - is it that I need?"

"Redemption."

His laugh filled the room. It was not a snort or a snarling laugh, but a proper laugh. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was in no position to be laughing at her.

" _Redemption,_ " he coughed. And then, when she gained composure, "Well Swan, I think you may be the most deluded out of all of them."

"Go on, laugh. Laugh all you want," she said, rather smugly. "But one day, when you've completed all your little revenge plots or whatever, you're gonna be left with a huge, gaping hole in your black heart. And no amount of murders is going to be able to fill that hole. And I feel _sorry_ for you."

Silence. It filled the room, replacing Hook's laughter. His face darkened. Just when she thought she'd gotten to him, he spoke again.

"What will you do about the hole in _your_ heart?"

"There isn't a hole in my heart."

"Well…"

"Why am I even talking to you?" she snapped. "David was right. You're just pathetic. You're repulsive." She stood up out of her seat and made her way over to him. His eyes widened, just a touch, in shock. "Maybe there is hope for you, maybe there isn't. But here's the thing - whether you redeem yourself or whether you don't, none of us will ever be able to trust you. _I_ especially won't be able to trust you. You can rot in this cell for all I care."

She turned on her heel and stormed out the room, without sparing a look back in his direction. She made her way down the corridor. A few lights flickered overhead, and in a moment of madness, she had the strange feeling that she was doing it.

Finally, she escaped into the day. She gulped in air until it cleansed her and soothed her aching headache.

There was nothing good about Hook. Nothing. He'd be a selfish, stupid pirate for ever, unable to see past his revenge. He'd never move on. He'd never find love.

Emma wasn't entirely sure why it bothered her so much.

She stretched her arms high above her head, trying to undo the knots in her shoulders and neck. The stretch felt good. It relieved some of the tension she'd harboured for the past few weeks, and in the station, trapped with Hook.

She couldn't let him get to her again. She couldn't. She needed to be professional.

As she stretched, she caught a glimpse of someone on the other side of the road. A flash of red and brown. Her brain was a little slower than her eyes. A tiny object flew towards her and landed at her feet. Emma hadn't registered the bean before she was plunged down and everything disappeared in a whirl of grey.

The name, "Cora," had hardly left her lips.

* * *

Emma was thrown onto the ground. She skated across the concrete. A sharp stinging on her arms, elbows and hands told her that she'd scraped them in the process. Her head throbbed and her eyes blurred every time she tried to open them.

"Emma!" she heard a familiar voice. "Emma, are you alright?" Thud thud thud on the pavement as footsteps approached her. She looked up.

"David?" she croaked.

He crouched down beside her. "She's over here!" he called into the distance. A second thud of footsteps made their way over to her.

"Is she alright?" asked Mary Margaret, also kneeling down beside her. Emma caught a whiff of a perfume and felt a scarf brush gently across her cheek.

"I think so. She must have fell. She hit her head."

On his words, Emma touched her forehead. She moved her hand away when she saw something sticky and was shocked to see blood on her fingertips.

"What happened?" she groaned. "Where's Cora?"

"Cora?" said Mary Margaret, alarmed. "What do you mean, where's Cora?"

Cora was there. She'd seen her. She'd seen her dress- red or purple, or whatever. She'd smiled, slow and chilling, showing a set of pearly white teeth, right before she-

"The bean! She threw a bean at me. There was noise. A portal-"

Emma finally managed to open her eyes. She looked around, more confused than ever. She was in exactly the same spot as before. But she'd fell through the portal, hadn't she? She saw the world disappear around her. And now she was-

"Where's Cora?" she asked suddenly. "Where's the bean?"

"I think she has concussion," said Mary Margaret. She placed her hands on the side of Emma's face. "She's burning up, David. We need to get her home. Is he in?"

"I think he said he'd be back later. He's got something special planned."

Emma didn't register their words. She was too busy thinking about Cora and the bean. Cora had thrown the bean at her, she had disappeared and-

Maybe the bean was unsuccessful. Maybe she only _thought_ she disappeared, but the bean had thrown her back because it wasn't very strong. She wanted to ask Mary Margaret if that was possible, but they were already trying to help her to her feet. They gripped her upper arms and pulled. Emma managed to do it, though her legs were shaking violently.

But she'd barely had time to take a breath and take in her surroundings when a wave of nausea hit her and everything went blurry again. She didn't even feel herself hit the floor.

"Emma!"

" _Emma!"_

…

Emma groaned. She turned her head into the fluffy pillow and pulled the covers tighter around herself. Though she hadn't opened her eyes, she could tell it was light outside, probably morning. Bird chirped away in the trees. For once Mary Margaret wasn't singing to them. If the sun didn't wake her up, that usually did, as soothing as Mary Margaret's voice was.

She tried to swallow, but there was a burning in the back of her throat.

Water. She needed water.

She opened her eyes and then promptly closed them again. Yes, it was _definitely_ morning. Light covered every inch of the room, blinding her.

Wasn't it morning when she fell asleep?

No, she didn't fall asleep.

Suddenly, memories started coming back to her. She passed out in the middle of the street, with David and Mary Margaret. She'd passed out because there was- there was-

A portal.

And she'd-

She'd hit her head.

Tentatively, she moved a hand to touch her forehead. Instead of meeting a bloody gash, her fingertips brushed along a soft, cotton bandage. Mary Margaret must have patched her up, she realised, with a wave of gratitude.

She must have put her in bed, too. Though the bed didn't feel like her usual bed in the loft. It was much comfier. Her head sunk into the pillows, and she was cocooned in warmth, thanks to the thick, feather quilt. Mary Margaret didn't even own a feather quilt.

Emma opened her eyes.

And immediately sat up. Her head spun at the movement, but only for a second. When she could see properly again, her insides clenched. This was not Mary Margaret's room. It was a stranger to her.

It was mostly white - with cream walls and cream cabinets. The bed was dark, the colour of red wine. The sheets were silk. It was certainly nothing she would choose to sleep in. She'd never liked silk. A huge, open window was on one wall, light pouring through it.

Emma's heart started to beat faster. What was she doing there? In a room she didn't know, or hadn't ever seen before? She knew it couldn't be a room at Granny's. Granny's rooms weren't as stylish as this one.

Maybe Granny was full so they had to take her somewhere else.

But why wouldn't they put her in her own bed?

She pushed back the covers and set her feet on the carpet. It was then she realised she was wearing pyjamas. Someone must have changed her, which she wouldn't have minded, if they were _her_ pyjamas. But they weren't. She'd never seen those pyjamas in her entire life.

What the _hell_ was going on?

There was a polite knock on the door and then it opened. Terrified, Emma's eyes flew to the opening door. Who was it going to be? Cora? Gold? Was this their idea of a sick joke? The intruder stepped into the room, carrying a breakfast tray on one hand like a butler. Or what Emma assumed to be a breakfast tray. She hadn't properly looked. Her wide eyes were fixed on the person in front of her.

Hook.

"Emma," he said, with a soft smile she'd never seen before. "You're awake. I was getting worried."

He took a step forward. She stood up, eyes searching the room for a weapon. Why the hell was Hook in this strange house with her? What did he want? And more importantly, why was he carrying breakfast?

His smile faltered.

"Love? Are you alright?"

There was nothing for it. She grabbed a metal picture frame from the bedside table.

"Stay away from me," she warned. "Or I'll shove this into your head."

"Emma?" he said, alarmed. He took a step forward. "What the hell-"

"Stay away from me," she yelled. "Don't come near me."

He lowered the tray on the dresser and held his hand and hook up, backing away. His face was still alarmed but when he spoke, his voice was calm. "They'd said you'd hit your head. Perhaps you might be a little disorientated."

"Now, why am I here?"

"What do you mean why are you here? Your parents brought you here."

"Why would they bring me here?" she shot at him.

"Why _wouldn't_ they bring you here, is the question."

"Just answer me."

Hook watched her for a moment, frowning. It was a different frown from what she'd seen him do in the cell. This one was thoughtful and laced with worry. He looked different, too. His hair was clean and styled. He'd held back on the eyeliner. He wasn't as thin as he was, either. Not to mention the lack of his long leather coat. Now he wore a simple black shirt. He looked older, she thought.

But how was that possible?

"Because you live here," he finally said, calmly.

"I've never seen this place before in my life. Why would I live here?"

"With me," he added.

Her disgust showed all over her face. "Why would I live here with _you?_ "

He swallowed and Emma thought she saw a hint of pain in his face. But he continued to answer calmly, eyes on her at all times. "Because we're married."

That's when she ran for the door.

* * *

 **Hey there, I hoped you liked this! I am so excited for this one, you have no idea. I have many plans and I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!**


	2. Crazy Cuckoo Land

Crazy Cuckoo Land

* * *

"Emma."

"Emma, love."

" _Emma._ Please open the door."

She didn't move. Not one muscle.

She was sat on the floor, her back pressed against the door, keeping it firmly shut. She had already locked it with the silver bolt just above the handle, but she wasn't taking any chances. Not with him. Not ever.

Her legs were pulled up, arms clasped tightly around them. Her feet sunk into the thick, cream carpet, but she couldn't appreciate it. She couldn't appreciate the beauty of the room, either. She stared at the bedframe, level with her eyes, but unseeingly. On the inside, she was screaming.

"I'm going to get your mother," came Hook's voice again. "Perhaps she can made head or tail of what the hell is going on."

She didn't move, not even as she heard the distant sound of his footsteps down the stairs and the slamming door.

What the hell had happened? One moment everything was perfectly fine, everyone was happy, Hook was locked in a cell and they only had one more problem to deal with: Cora. Then suddenly she was in this entirely different life, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar house.

And Hook - the _fairytale_ _Captain_ Hook - was claiming to be her husband.

What fresh hell was this?

She needed a plan.

 _No._ She needed to work out what was going on.

It had something to do with Cora and that bean. Maybe the bean had sent her to an alternate reality where everything was warped and weird. She wouldn't put it past Cora. There were a lot of things she and the other heroes didn't know about her. Even Regina didn't know all her mother's secrets. Not that Regina would tell them. She had been on Cora's side from the start.

So had Hook. Hook, who had gone to get her _mother._ Last time it was Mary Margaret getting Hook. And tying him to a chair, no less.

It hadn't taken Emma long to kick Hook out the room. She expected him to put up a fight, to knock her out with that lump of mental at the end of his arm, as he had done to countless people before her. But what she hadn't expected him to do was hold his arms up and walk out of there. At her request.

(Her not-so-much polite request. She had threatened to plunge a photo frame into his skull).

The very same photo frame had been abandoned on the floor. As soon as Hook was out, Emma had dropped it and ran to the door to lock it. The frame lay inches away from her feet, embedded in the soft carpet.

Slowly, like a statue coming to life, Emma started to move. She reached over to the photo frame. It was face down. Her fingertips brushed the cool metal edges tentatively. She didn't really want to touch anything in the house. She couldn't even believe she'd been sleeping in that strange bed. But curiosity caught her, and so she picked it up.

She turned it over in her hands. The picture was of Emma and her parents. They stood outside Granny's, arms draped around each other. They were all smiling at the camera. But what got Emma wasn't the smiles, not even her own which was as radiant as it had ever been, but how much older they all looked. David had the beginnings of lines around his eyes. Mary Margaret had put on weight - pregnancy weight, by the look of it. And Emma looked oddly older. She gently touched the highlights in her hair.

Then, before she could stop herself, she climbed to her feet. Legs wobbling, she made her way over to the large dresser pushed against one wall. She sat down on the chair in front and looked directly in the mirror.

She gasped. An actual audible gasp.

Her hand moved up to touch her face. She stroked the beginning of lines around her eyes and her cheekbones, which seemed even more prominent than ever. Her hair fell in soft curls around her face. It was shorter. Softer. Light to the touch. She combed her fingers through it.

She was definitely older.

"How is this possible?" she whispered to herself and the stranger looking back at her moved their lips. She traced the outlines of her lips with her fingertips.

"Emma? Are you still in there?"

She jumped at the voice, her breath catching in her throat. She almost laughed. Since when had she been afraid of _Hook?_ Then again, Hook hadn't had her trapped like this before. She'd always had the upperhand.

She chose not to answer.

There was a silence. It stretched a full minute. And then-

"Emma? Emma, are you okay?"

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. Mary Margaret. She jumped up from the dresser and crossed the room. She pressed her hand to the door. Mary Margaret was on the other side. Her mother, who was nothing but honest. She would would make her a cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon and tell her exactly what was happening and why. And if she didn't know? Why, they'd work it out together, of course.

"Mary Margaret," she breathed. "I'm alright."

Silence.

"Do you… uh, want to come out? Or should I come in?"

Emma was ready to tell her _yes_ , she could come in and explain everything to her, but fear stopped her. If all of this was a trick by Cora, that would make Mary Margaret a trick too. And that was a chance she was not willing to take.

"Actually, I'm fine. I think you should go."

"Emma?"

"I said I think you should go."

She was already planning her escape. Her eyes immediately flew to the window. She ran towards it and pushed it. With a satisfying crack it opened and a breeze cooled her warm face. But after a few more seconds of pushing she realised the window wasn't going to open all the way. It opened enough for a breeze and crack of light, but she could hardly fit through it.

"Emma?" That was Hook's voice. The sound sent a chill through her.

She inspected the window pane, running her fingers down the white plastic. The glass was double, maybe even triple glazed. She'd have a hell of a job breaking through it. And by the time she did, Hook could be waiting for her at the bottom of the house, ready to drag her back to the room.

Her stomach grumbled, but she refused to touch the food he'd abandoned on the dresser. If this was Cora's trick, there was every chance it would be poisoned.

She knew one thing for sure. If this _was_ Cora's trick, she wasn't going to submit. She would not stay here and starve to death. She was Emma Swan and she was a fighter. There was one thing for it.

She grabbed the lamp from the bedside table and unbolted the door. Taking a step back, she grasped the lamp in both hands and held it up. Her hands were slick, but that didn't worry her. She just had to get out.

She took in a deep breath.

"Okay. You can come in."

The door swung open, slowly, creaking like something from a horror film. Emma's blood ran cold.

Mary Margaret stepped in first. Emma didn't hesitate, she kicked her legs out from underneath her, and Mary Margaret fell. She didn't wait to check if she was alright. The real Mary Margaret in the real world would be fine. At least, she hoped.

She wasted no time. Hook was next. She aimed for his head and with a sickening clash, collided. He fell into the wall, clutching his head, cursing and crying out. Emma dropped the lamp and bolted out the door.

But what she hadn't planned for was David.

He grabbed her around her middle, and yanked her back, just when her fingertips brushed the bannister. She struggled, kicking and scratching and fighting, but he was too strong for her. She may have known how to look after herself, but he was a Prince and had had professional training. He held her to him as easily as if she were a sack of flour.

"Let me _go,_ " she hissed.

"What on earth, Emma?"

She had a solid few minutes of struggling and kicking before she collapsed in David's arms, exhausted. He didn't let her go, though. He knew her too well, this warped David.

"She bloody hit me!" came Hook's voice.

Emma glanced over at him. His forehead was bleeding. His hand was bright red from where he touched it. She was not sorry.

Mary Margaret limped out the bedroom massaging her side. Emma suddenly felt guilty, but she tried to push away the feelings. This was not really Mary Margaret. Still, being as small and as fragile as she was, Emma could not stand to see her in pain.

"Snow," David said, worried. Snow? Since when had be called her Snow?

His grip slackened on Emma for a moment, only a moment as he debated moving to his wife, but tightened almost immediately again.

"I'm okay, David. Don't fuss," she said. "It's Emma I'm worried about." She pressed her lips together in a tight line.

"What the hell has gotten into you, Emma?" David sighed. His voice, right in her ear, made her wince. As the adrenaline seeped out of her body, a headache arrived, thundering through her temples. "What did you do to her?" It took her a moment to realise he'd addressed Hook.

"Bloody nothing. I walked into the bedroom and she attacked me."

"You expect me _not_ to attack you?" she hissed at him.

Something flashed across his face. Before she could see what it was, it was gone. "Yes," he said, darkly.

"I don't think Emma's herself," said Mary Margaret, in her calming voice.

"I'll say," said David.

"No, I think something may have happened when she hit her head. But to work out what's happened, we're going to have to talk to her." She turned her gaze on Emma. "If David releases you, will you promise to stop fighting?"

"Yes," Emma said, because she was out of energy and she was a little creeped out at everyone talking in the third person, as if she was some kind of mental case.

David hesitated, but released her. True to her word, Emma did not fight. Her eyes darted to the stairs, but she remained rooted to the spot. She kept her eyes on Mary Margaret, and avoided Hook, who was burning holes in her.

"I think we need to talk, Emma," said Mary Margaret in that soft, gentle voice.

"Yeah." If she couldn't escape, she wanted answers. And she wanted them now.

"David, could you please take Elizabeth to our house?"

"Of course."

Elizabeth? Who was Elizabeth? Emma watched as David threw one last concerned look in Emma's direction and headed down the stairs. They all waited in silence before they heard the door slam.

* * *

A few minutes later they all sat at the unfamiliar kitchen table. Emma sat opposite Hook, who was dabbing the wound on his forehead with a cold flannel. Mary Margaret, finished handing out hot chocolates, and sat at the head of the table. Emma was grateful to see it had cinnamon, but she didn't move. Like in the bedroom, she was a statue.

"So, Emma," she said. "Could you explain to us what you do or don't remember?"

Emma kept her eyes, narrowed and unwelcoming, on Hook as she spoke. She told them about Cora and the bean and about how she ended up in what she thought was Storybrooke, but wasn't Storybrooke at all.

"And suddenly I'm in crazy cuckoo land," she said at the end.

Hook almost smiled. Almost.

"I don't understand," Mary Margaret whispered, shaking her head. "Yesterday you were fine. And now something's happened and-"

"Cora is what happened," Emma snapped. "This is a trick. Cora did this. And I wouldn't be surprised if he-" she nodded in Hook's direction. "- is behind it too."

"Emma," Mary Margaret said, a little too patronisingly. "Of course he isn't."

"Sorry if I don't believe you. But the last time I saw that man, I was putting him behind bars," she said cooly. "Because you shot _Belle._ Do you remember that, pirate?"

"Not one of my finest hours," he said, and suddenly Emma saw him. The Hook she had just been with yesterday. The evil, pirate Hook. He may have been wearing a mask now, but he was there, right behind the eyes.

"But that- that was _years_ ago." Mary Margaret shook her head. "How could that have been yesterday?"

"Ten years, if I remember correctly," Hook said.

"You remember?" Emma asked him suspiciously. Though it was the ten years that shocked her the most.

"Oh yes. You told me I repulsed you."

That was his first mistake. How could he remember her exact wording if it had been ten years ago?

"You still do."

Hook looked away. His hand curled into a fist on the table. _C'mon Pirate,_ she thought. _Show us the real you, you sniveling excuse for a-_

"But you're _married_! You've been married for so long."

"Seven years," said Hook, quietly. "And twenty-two days."

Emma ignored him. "Come on. You don't expect me to believe that David would let me marry Hook? He hates his guts."

"You father may have had his qualms, but he came around. We all did."

"Ha!" Emma snorted.

"Look, Emma. You came around too. Killian is a-"

 _Killian_? Since when did she start calling him _Killian_?

"- changed man."

"Even if he changed - and I'm not saying he did - why would I ever marry him? After everything he's done? He's hurt so many people."

Shooting Belle was only the tip of the iceberg. He imprisoned Jiminy Cricket. Not to mention the amount of people he must have killed in the past. She couldn't believe he would have changed his spots. Not for anything.

Hook closed his eyes and swallowed. There was pain on his face, but it was all an act. It must have been all an act. It couldn't be real.

"You changed too, Emma," said Mary Margaret, quietly.

Emma remained silent. Her eyes fell to her untouched hot chocolate.

"This is ridiculous," snapped Hook. "We need to know what happened. Is this Emma from the past? Has she lost her memory? The bloody crocodile would have the answers. I want my wife back."

"Killian-" Mary Margaret reached across the table to place a hand on his arm. He calmed at the touch. Emma felt repulsed. "You know Gold isn't an option anymore."

"Why?" asked Emma sharply. "Where's Gold?"

"He skipped town years ago. All those bad deeds caught up with him, it seemed." She frowned, thoughtfully. "But Regina might know something. We could try her."

"Aye. She seems like a good bet."

Emma folded her arms. "Regina? I don't think so."

Regina was working with Cora. She'd betray all of the town if it meant her revenge. She was just as bad as Hook. Mary Margaret should have known better. But _this_ Mary Margaret wasn't the Mary Margaret she knew, and she had to keep reminding herself of that.

"Regina's-"

"If you say "changed". It seemed like everyone's changed in this town."

"It's true, love," said Hook. "We've all changed. All for the better."

Emma ignored him, pointedly looking in the other direction. It felt childish, but she was so confused. Nothing made sense.

"Emma," Mary Margaret began, coaxing her attention back to her. "I know this will be hard but you're going to have to trust us. If you can't trust Killian, trust me. And trust that I trust Killian. We need to find out what happened, for all of our sakes, but to do that you're going to have to co-operate."

Emma considered this for a moment. She needed to find out what happened. And though this was not _her_ Mary Margaret, it was Mary Margaret. A Mary Margaret. Who had made her hot chocolate and cinnamon and who was watching her with those concerned, doe-like eyes. Shame rolled over her.

"I'm sorry I kicked you," she mumbled.

"It's quite alright," she said, with dignity. "I understand how you must be feeling. But I want to help. Okay?"

A moment passed.

"Okay."

Emma didn't even realise Hook had left until she heard the door slam.

* * *

 **I am both shocked and overwhelmed by all the love I got for this! I didn't expect it, being only the first chapter. But I'm guessing you guys like this idea? Well, so do I! Writing this is one the most interesting Captain Swan experiences I've ever had. I love writing season 2 Emma. She's so hostile and it's fantastic. SO I hope I don't let you guys down, and you continue to like it. I can't promise it'll be smooth sailing, but I can promise it'll all be worth it. Thank you for reading.**


	3. Mary Margaret's Surprises

Mary Margaret's Surprises

* * *

That night Emma went home with Mary Margaret. Hook resisted, of course, but after Emma had firmly expressed that she could not and _would_ not stay in the house, he had to give in. She could not stay in the same house as Captain Hook.

Mary Margaret tried to get Emma to stay and at least look around the house, but Emma had flat out refused. She couldn't stand to stay in that place one more minute than she had to. It was too unfamiliar to her.

So Emma found herself climbing the stairs to Mary Margaret's apartment. She slipped her hand into her pocket, searching for her key. Panic overtook her as she realised it wasn't there. She patted all of her pockets but she still couldn't find it.

"You don't have a key," said Mary Margaret, as she took her own out her bag and slipped it into the lock. "Well, you do but you don't use it anymore. You keep it at the house."

"Right."

Emma made a note to go get the key if she ever got back in the house. She felt almost naked without it.

The door unlocked with a satisfying click. Mary Margaret pushed it open and they both stepped inside.

The apartment had changed. There was still the same double bed downstairs, and the same wooden, kitchen surface, but the floor and paintwork were different colours. The walls weren't bricks anymore. They'd been plastered and painted over. A once sunny yellow that had faded over time. The ground was littered with thick, soft-looking rugs. The sofa had changed to something chocolate coloured and, though Emma would never have told Mary Margaret, it looked a lot comfier.

But it wasn't the sofa or the rugs or even the paintwork that got her the most. It was the assortment of boxes littered around the apartment. Some were big, some were tall and some were as small as her ankles.

"You're moving?" Emma asked, in shock. She stepped slowly into the apartment.

"Yes," said Mary Margaret, a little sheepishly, placing her keys on the side. "You've known for months."

 _No. I haven't,_ Emma thought, but she let it slide. "Where?"

"Oh, nowhere far. Just around the corner. There's a big house there. But with Neal and-"

Emma froze. "Hang on. _Neal?_ Who's Neal?"

Her heart was pounding in her ears. She hadn't heard that name for a long time. Years, in fact. The last time she heard that name, she was standing in the middle of the street, hands behind her back as the officer quizzed her on the man who'd ran off with the watches.

And her heart. She hadn't loved again since him. She didn't know how.

She still didn't.

Before Mary Margaret could answer, there was a yell of, "Emma!" and a blur emerged from behind the boxes and straight into Emma. She stumbled backwards, grabbing onto the table to stop herself from falling over.

She glanced down at the blur to discover that he wasn't a blur at all. In fact, he was a small child of about ten, maybe eleven, looking up at her with wide green eyes exactly like her own. He had sandy brown hair and a round, innocent face.

"Oh… hello…" she mumbled awkwardly. She looked up at Mary Margaret who mouthed, 'Neal'.

The warmth that entered her heart was swift and unexpected. Her hands immediately came down to stroke his soft hair. It was thick, pouring through her fingers like silk. So this was her brother. He might not be real, but he felt real enough with his tiny body holding onto hers and his smile stretching out across his face.

"Neal honey, I think you should let go of Emma now," Mary Margaret said gently. "She isn't feeling too well."

Neal did what his mother asked at once. Then he stood, looking up at Emma with his arms folded. His stance was so much like Emma herself that she smiled. This world might not have been real, but it got something right.

"What's wrong, Emma?" he asked, surveying her with critical eyes.

Emma was quick to answer. "I fell. Hit my head. I've been feeling dizzy ever since."

"That sucks."

"Sure does, kid."

Her own words shocked her. They reminded her of how she spoke to Henry, especially when she first met him. She had no idea how to deal with the kid and he was her _own_ kid. But she managed to do it. She just treated him like a person.

Henry.

In this warped world where was Henry? At Regina's? The thought made her shudder. That woman was pure evil. A force unto herself. He couldn't be at the loft. If he was, he would have come to see her by now. If there was one thing she could be sure of, it was her growing relationship with her kid.

She tried to get Mary Margaret's attention. She had so many questions that needed so many answers. When her mother caught her eye, Emma nodded to Neal with her head. She was quick to get the hint.

"Have you finished your homework?"

"No," said Neal. "But Emma's here so I don't have to. Right?" He was crafty. She'd give him that. And his hopeful smile was pretty adorable.

"Wrong," said Mary Margaret. "Go and get it done. Now."

When Mary Margaret turned her back to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard, Neal rolled his eyes to the skies.

"Don't roll your eyes at me! Go and do it."

"It's like she has eyes in the back of her head," he whispered to Emma. And then, louder: "Okay, I'm gonna go do it. I'll see you later, Emma. Next time bring Lizzie so I'm not bored out of my skull." And he stomped off upstairs.

"Who's Lizzie?" Emma asked, almost immediately. She'd heard that name twice. First, in the form of Elizabeth and she had a horrible feeling it had something to do with her.

Mary Margaret turned to face her, holding the mugs. "Tea? Or coffee?"

"Who's Lizzie?"

"Something stronger it is." She swapped the mugs to glasses and grabbed a bottle of brown liquid from the cupboard next door. "I'll explain everything. Just give me two minutes." There was the sloshing sound of liquid meeting glass. "Lemonade?"

Emma shook her head. "Straight."

"Probably better that way." She placed the glasses on the side. "Let me just check on Archie."

"Archie?" The grasshopper shrink?

She disappeared behind a few boxes. Confused and curious, Emma followed. Right there, in the middle of the room, hidden behind a mountain of boxes was a cot. And in that cot, a baby.

"Still sleeping," Mary Margaret murmured, satisfied. "I'm glad. I hate leaving him but I knew he'd be okay with Neal. Neal's been brilliant with Archie. The best little helper a mom could ask for!"

Emma peered at his little sleeping form and her heart melted. He wore a sleepsuit. His tiny feet trembled in his sleep and Emma wondered if he was dreaming. She had the strange desire to stroke his button nose and his wisps of hair.

"He's beautiful. Archie. Suits him."

"Doesn't it?" She was practically glowing. "We named him after Archie."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "Hopper?"

"Mm. He died a few years back." She paused, a sadness coming over her. "It was Henry's idea. To name him Archie, I mean. We thought this was the best way to honour a man who's touched so many lives."

"You're right." Then a thought struck her. "What about Neal? Who was he named after?"

Mary Margaret's look was long and searching. "Long story. C'mon, let's sit down and have a drink. You're gonna need it."

When they were both seated Emma drained her glass in one. She had no idea what was happening or what had happened. All she knew was that she needed a drink. The alcohol burned her throat and soothed her nerves. Mary Margaret promptly refilled her glass to the brim.

"I'm not sure what's happened," said Mary Margaret slowly. "But I have a theory."

"Care to share?" asked Emma and gulped down some of her drink.

"I think you've lost your memory. Don't interrupt-" she said when Emma opened her mouth to assure her that's not what had happened. "I think it's the only thing that makes sense. You said Cora sent you through a portal but can you really be sure of that? I mean, the thing is, Cora _did_ happen. You defeated her. We all did."

Emma shook her head. "No-one can lose so many years of their life."

"Well that's just it, isn't it? You have."

"But the portal-"

"Emma, I don't think you went through a portal," she said gently. "It doesn't make sense. If you did, you'd still look like your twenty- eight year old self, wouldn't you? Magic beans don't cause increase of age."

"But I don't understand it. I don't understand _any_ of it." Her hand was white around her glass. "It's not plausible."

"What isn't?"

"Any of it. Why would I marry _Hook?_ " She spat his name. "Why would I do that to myself? Do I not have any self-respect in the future? Am I really so gullible?"

Mary Margaret was already shaking her head. "I told you. He's a changed man."

Emma snorted.

"No, really. He surprised us. All of us. But he's proven himself time and time again. To you, most of all. He loves you."

"He doesn't know what love is." He was a revenge-obsessed pirate. How could he?

"He'd go to hell for you."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't for him." That made Mary Margaret smile. "What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing." She shook her head.

She couldn't imagine Hook doing anything for her. If anything, he was out for himself. He was selfish. You could rely on Hook if you were Hook. The only time she'd questioned that was when they were on the beanstalk together, and she saw a glimmer of hope in him. He destroyed that when he teamed up with Cora and shot Belle.

"So how does it work then?" She couldn't believe she was asking that. "Our relationship?"

"I won't discuss the ins and outs of your marriage with you," said Mary Margaret firmly. "That's something you need to talk about with Killian. I don't know too much about it anyway. You're both very private people. But I know you're both deeply in love with each other."

"Ha!"

"Emma, this isn't funny."

"I'm not laughing."

She didn't think it was remotely funny at all. The thought of being in love with Hook made her feel a little sick.

"Anyway," Mary Margaret said brightly. "What else do you want to know? I feel like we should fill in as many gaps as possible. It might help jog your memory a little. Until we can see Regina of course-"

"Regina!" Emma spat. "Tell me why we would _ever_ go to Regina for help after what she's done?"

Her face was overtaken by a slow smile. "She, too, has changed."

"She hates you!"

"She did once. Or, perhaps not. I feel like she hated what happened rather than me." Mary Margaret tapped her fingertips against her chin thoughtfully. "She has sacrificed herself for us on more than one occasion. I don't always agree with her methods but… she's a friend. A true friend. To both of us."

"But Cora-"

"Dead. By my hand. I think that makes us equal, don't you?"

Emma opened her mouth to argue but closed it again. She was quickly coming to realise that the rules had completely changed in this world. Whether real or not, she was going to have to accept the information she was given as fact. She didn't have to like it, but she had to accept it. And perhaps see the changes for herself.

But not with Hook. Because marrying him was going a bit too far in her book.

She moved to a safer subject.

"Henry?"

The smile that lightened Mary Margaret's face untightened Emma's chest. "Has grown into a wonderful young man. He and Violet are very happy together."

Emma almost choked on her drink. "Who the hell is _Violet?"_

Her smile grew, if possible, even wider. "His girlfriend, of course. We weren't at all shocked when they announced they were moving in together-"

" _Moving in together?_ "

"Well, he is twenty-two. You were right behind it."

"Twenty-two."

Emma sank in her chair. Twenty-two. If Mary Margaret was right and she had lost her memory, she had missed some of the most important years of his life. His twenty-first. How could she do that to him? Had she failed him, yet again?

"I expect an announcement any day now!" Mary Margaret laughed. "We knew it was true love even _before_ the True Love's Kiss, but that sealed the deal and they've never been happier. Henry blushes every time Violet walks into the room! We all think it's adorable. Lizzie, especially. She can't stop teasing him about-"

"Lizzie." Emma sat up, heart pounding. "Who's Lizzie?" she asked, even though she was sure she already knew the answer.

Mary Margaret cleared her throat and looked Emma right in the eyes.

"She's your daughter. Yours and Killian's."

Emma downed the rest of her drink.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! I read though all them with a huge grin on my face. (And also got really weird looks when people happened to glance my way and see me grinning at nothing). Well done those of you who guessed Lizzie was Killian And Emma's daughter!**


	4. Elizabeth

Elizabeth

* * *

Emma woke up in her own bed and for the first time, everything was normal. She turned into the pillow and groaned. A happy groan. She knew that when she opened her eyes, everything would have just been a dream. But when she did open her eyes, the first thing they saw was the boxes towered around her bed, and the bedcovers which were _nothing_ like her own. That time when she groaned, it was one of frustration.

All she wanted to do is pull the covers over her head and disappear but she knew that was not good enough. She was the saviour. She needed to figure out a way to get back to her old life. If there was one thing she was sure of, Mary Margaret was wrong and she _hadn't_ lost her memories.

So she pulled herself out of bed and down the stairs to the kitchen. Mary Margaret was up, busying herself collecting pans and mugs out of the cupboards. David was sat at the table, fully dressed, massaging his forehead with his hand. She hadn't heard him come in last night.

"Hey, Emma," he greeted with a tired but warm smile.

She threw herself in the chair opposite him. "Hey."

"Emma!" Mary Margaret said. She threw her head around to smile at her. "I was just about to get you up. We're making pancakes and coffee. Do you want any?"

Emma leaned back in her chair. "Sure."

For a moment there was only the sound of oil sizzling in the pan and Mary Margaret's gentle humming. Emma sighed, relieved and at home. The only thing missing was the sound of Henry complaining about doing homework or that his pancakes needed whipped cream and syrup. But suddenly he was twenty-two? She couldn't wrap her head around it. Then, a thought struck her.

"Where's Neal?"

"Asleep," said Mary Margaret. She nodded her head in the direction of the double bed downstairs. And sure enough, there was a snoring lump under the covers.

"Hang on…" There were two beds. Only two beds. If she had had one of them and Neal had the other one then … "Where did you sleep?"

"With Neal," said Mary Margaret brightly. "David took the sofa, of course. I don't think Neal would have appreciated David's snoring."

"Weird sleeping arrangements."

"Well, if it's only temporary…"

"Huh?"

She pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself. "Well, you had Neal's bed, Emma. We only need the two these days. So he came into my bed. Oh, we don't mind-" she said, catching sight of Emma's expression. "This must be a troubling time for you. It would make sense that you'd want to sleep in your own bed."

"I didn't even realise," she said in a small voice.

She'd been so preoccupied with her own thoughts and feelings, she'd almost completely forgotten about Neal and sleeping arrangements. If she thought, if she even considered that the bed was Neal's, she would have used the sofa. God knows, she'd slept in worse conditions. She said as much to Mary Margaret.

"I know, Emma,' she soothed, as she placed coffee in front of her and David. "But it was for the best, really. David didn't get in until late anyway."

"Why?" she threw at him.

"Oh! Uh-" He rubbed his chin. "I was at Hook's-"

Finally. Someone using his proper name.

"- almost all night."

He exchanged a look with his wife. It was quick, they were trying to be secretive, but Emma didn't miss it. She didn't miss anything, especially where they were concerned.

"What?"

They shared another look.

" _What?"_

Mary Margaret turned back to the pancakes, leaving David to flounder in front of her. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding her eyes. She hated when he did that. She wasn't a child, for goodness sake. She could take it.

"Well, it's just uh-"

"Spit it out, David."

"It's just Lizzie," he rushed out. "She was asking for you all night. Wondering where you were."

Emma processed this information. The thought of having a daughter seemed so foreign to her, she couldn't even imagine it. She didn't _want_ to imagine it. She had Henry and that was all she needed. She was safe in the knowledge that this Lizzie, whoever she was, wasn't real.

"Do you want to… uh… see her?"

Emma shrugged. The truth was, she really didn't. That might have made her seem heartless or horrible, but she couldn't feel anything for a child she didn't even give birth to. She tried to picture her. Would she be blonde? Would she have green eyes? Or would she look a little like Henry? Henry had more of Neal in him. Would this Lizzie have more of Hook?

She _really_ didn't want to think about it.

Mary Margaret placed the stack of pancakes in the middle of the table and sat down. Emma grabbed a pancake quickly and dropped it onto her plate. It burnt her fingers. She drowned her pancakes in maple syrup, well aware that her parents were watching her.

" _What?"_

Mary Margaret immediately grabbed a pancake. She drizzled lemon over it. Emma could almost _hear_ her brain ticking over.

"Look," Emma said. "I don't even know this kid."

"Emma, she's your daughter. You love her," said Mary Margaret with a sharp look in her direction. "You just can't remember."

"You don't want to see her?" David's forehead puckered. "Even if you can't remember her, you're not a little bit curious?"

"No, David, I'm not."

"Dad," came Mary Margaret's voice suddenly. Her eyes were fixed on Emma, wide and unblinking. "You call him dad. You haven't called him David for years."

 _What does it matter,_ Emma wanted to scream. What mattered was that she needed to find a way out of that crazy world. It didn't matter if she called David dad or dad David. It simply didn't matter. In her world, Cora was at large, Hook was a villain and everything was as it should be.

She shovelled more pancakes into her mouth. They were still both looking at her. She swallowed. "What do you want me to say?"

"That you'll see Lizzie and that you'll talk to Killian-"

"No."

"- and see that he's not the villain you think he is."

"Absolutely not."

"Oh Emma!" she all but shouted. Emma flinched. She's never heard Mary Margaret speak like that before. "You haven't even given him a chance. I want you to consider - not even accept - but _consider_ the possibility that you've lost your memories. You can't stay here forever. If you can't do this for Killian _please_ do this for Lizzie."

Emma pushed her pancakes away from her, suddenly not very hungry.

"All we're asking," David began carefully, eyes darting from his wife to Emma. "Is that you give them a chance. Like your mother said, if not Killian, Lizzie. Just meet her. If anyone can jog your memory, she can. Trust me when I say you love her more than anything in the entire world."

Emma considered his words, but she didn't like them. She could hear the sense in them, but she wished they'd consider _her_ feelings. Couldn't they put themselves in her shoes? Try and imagine that she might be uncomfortable seeing Hook and acting out this stupid fairytale fantasy?

But of course, to them, it was not a fantasy.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No," they said at the same time.

"Fine. I'll meet her. But I don't want Hook anywhere near there."

"Oh, Emma," began David, with a sly smile. "When have you not been able to handle Hook?"

She froze.

"I can handle him."

"You sure?"

" _Yes."_

She paused. Of course she could handle him. Before she went through the portal, that's exactly what she was doing. Handling him. She's handled him on the beanstalk. She'd even handled him when he'd been hit by a car.

She wasn't, by any means, scared of him. He could be frightening, yes, but Emma wasn't scared of anything. Especially not a stupid pirate in an excessive amount of leather and more eyeliner than her.

"Fine," she said. "I'll see both of them. But don't expect me to be happy about it."

* * *

She started having reservations, however, when they were walking up the path to that big house.

"Are you sure I picked this?" she asked David, who just laughed and nodded.

Emma couldn't see it herself. She was used to sleeping on the streets or in her car. Even her old apartment in Boston wasn't that big, despite the money she'd been pulling in from her job. She couldn't imagine herself buying it or even living in it. Even if the sheriff's salary permitted it.

"I can't afford that," she said more to herself than anyone, but Mary Margaret heard.

"I guess being the Saviour comes with some perks," she said, with a secret smile.

They made their way up onto the porch. Emma sucked in a deep breath. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest so loud, she was sure her parents could feel it. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and folded her arms; her battle stance.

"Here we go," said Mary Margaret and rang the doorbell.

It opened almost immediately.

There stood Hook, hair parted to the side. Emma took a good look at him. It was odd seeing him without his long leather coat and pirate attire. She had to wonder when he started wearing normal clothes and why. Here, he wore a simple black shirt and black jeans. There wasn't any leather in sight.

"Emma," he breathed out, his face lifting into a smile.

"Hook," she said, without warmth.

He face fell. He looked at Mary Margaret, who just shook her head.

"Come on in," he said to all of them, and stepped back to let them inside. Emma didn't look at him as she walked past, arms folded. But she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.

She didn't have a proper look around the last time she was there. She just flew out the house. But now, she could see it was to her taste. Tidy, with comfortable yet clean furniture. The walls were very white, but pleasing on the eye. She almost nodded in approval. Almost.

"Would you like me to put some coffee on, Killian?" Mary Margaret asked, already unbuttoning her coat.

"Don't worry about it, love," he said with a warm smile. Emma watched the exchange with troubled eyes. "No Neal today?"

"Well, we thought it might be best if he stayed with Belle instead of coming here, y'know…" She gestured to Emma, who resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Archie is there too. She's a brilliant babysitter."

Belle? She'd missed a trick there. By the time Emma had gotten out of the shower both Neal and Archie were gone. She didn't think to ask where they disappeared to or why.

"Where's Lizzie?" David asked softly.

"Colouring upstairs in the study," Hook answered. "I asked her to stay there until I came and got her. She doesn't really understand why, but I thought it would be best. I ought to get her soon, though. It'll be bad form to keep her in there."

"So, what've you told her, then?" Emma asked, fixing him with a straight, serious look.

He didn't flinch away and she hadn't expected him to, but his eyebrows raised, as if shocked that she was speaking to him at all. She wasn't all that surprised since she'd done her best to ignore him since she walked through the door. And after the fiasco last time she was in the house…

"I told her you fell." He looked straight back at her. "And that Grandma and Grandad had to look after you for a while, but you'd be back soon."

"And she doesn't know that I don't know who she is?"

That time he did flinch. But it was all an act. She _knew_ it was an act. It had to be.

"I'm afraid she doesn't. I would have liked to be honest with her but, alas, I resent the pain it would cause her. I'm still not sure I've done the right thing."

"I'm sure you have, Killian," David agreed. "With any luck, Emma will be back to her normal self and Lizzie won't have to know a thing."

"Oh, I agree," said Mary Margaret. "Though I believe honesty is the best policy, we need to consider the fact that she's only a child."

Killian nodded solemnly as Emma watched him. She couldn't work him out.

"I suppose I shall go and get her, then?" He said. And then with surprising tenderness, he turned to Emma. "If that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

 _Let's get this over with,_ she thought.

He reached out his hand, as if he was going to place it on her arm, or reach for hers, but thought better of it. So he nodded again, swallowed and headed up the stairs. When he was gone, they trooped into the kitchen. Despite Hook's assurance that Mary Margaret didn't have to make coffee, she did anyway. She made one for everyone, including Hook, then she sat down at the kitchen table. David followed her lead, slumping into a chair. Emma, however, remained standing. She felt safer that way. Guarded.

Hook was a while. At least ten minutes. Emma wondered what he was talking to her about. Her, probably. Was he explaining that she wasn't quite the same? That she hadn't been since she fell and hit her head?

She drummed her fingers against her mug of tea in time to her thumping heart. She took a sip to steady herself. The liquid was warm and comforting, but it wasn't enough. God, she needed a drink.

That's when she heard it. The unmistakeable sound of footsteps down the wooden stairs. Hook's and a child's. Oh God. It was happening. She was here.

"Mummy!"

Emma's stomach dropped.

Lizzie ran towards her so fast, she turned into a blur. There was a whirl of air and then, in hardly no time at all, there was impact. She'd thrown herself at Emma, wrapping her arms around her waist, resting her head on her stomach.

For a second, Emma had absolutely no idea what to do. Then, like she'd done so many times with Henry, she wrapped her arms around the girl. It was instinctive. Natural. And suddenly, Emma didn't feel as scared anymore. She glanced down at Lizzie. All she could see was a head of chocolate hair, cascading in a wave of curls midway down her back. Her hair was thick and shiny like Emma. She touched her fingers to it. Softer than Neal's hair.

Lizzie gave her one final squeeze before she let go. That's when Emma had her first proper look at her. She couldn't help it. She gasped.

She was starting into Hook's bright blue eyes. She had the pleasure of getting lost in those eyes when she and Hook were on the beanstalk. It had been a mistake to stare so long, almost a surrender in a sense, giving into the connection she knew they had. The connection she pushed away every day, masking it with disgust. On Hook, the eyes were dark and seductive. But here, on Lizzie, they were beautiful, full of innocence.

The face structure was definitely Emma. They shared the same sculpted cheekbones, yet on this child they were softer. She would grow into them and she would be even more beautiful than Emma, more beautiful than anyone. That was something Emma was sure of.

"Daddy said you hit your head!"

Daddy? Oh, Hook. Right.

"I did. I-" She looked up, right into Mary Margaret's eyes. They were pleading but she needn't have worried. Emma knew at once she wouldn't tell this child the whole truth. She wouldn't hurt her like that. "I fell."

"Can I see?" She stood on her tiptoes, trying to get a better look.

Emma couldn't help it, she laughed. Is that what older Emma would do? This Emma, whose daughter stood in front of her? She'd just have to go with the flow.

"Sure thing."

She crouched down so her head was level with Lizzies. The bandage had been removed that morning. The wound wasn't very deep (she didn't need stitches, at least) but it was still healing.

"Ouch!" said Lizzie, touching her forehead with gentle fingers. "That looks painful."

Emma shrugged. "It's not so bad."

Lizzie stood up on her tiptoes again and Emma felt something wet on her forehead.

Emma frowned. "What was that?"

"True love's kiss. I kissed you and now you're better." She nodded and then added, "Because it's true love."

 _Oh._ Some of the ice around Emma's heart melted. Or perhaps it had melted when Lizzie first entered the room, she wasn't sure.

"I'm much better now, thank you," she said softly. Her words felt strange in her mouth and oddly formal but if Lizzie noticed she was acting strange, she didn't say. The next thing she said was much, much worse.

"You're not going away again, are you?"

Her stomach dropped again, but this time it wasn't fear. Guilt, maybe?

"I was only away one night."

"But I missed you!"

She smiled softly. "No, I'm not going away again."

She didn't even have to think about the words. She knew they were true. Even though she had argued with her parents, even though she swore to herself that she would stay in Hook's house again, she found herself defeated the moment she met Lizzie.

Strange how that works.

Lizzie flung her arms around Emma's neck, almost knocking her over. Once she'd steadied herself, she hugged her back, feeling her soft hair between her fingertips. She looked up and the first pair of eyes she saw were Hook's. His expression was gentle, so unlike the expressions he'd worn only a few days ago.

But which was the mask?

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

 **Hey guys, sorry this one took so long! I hope it makes up for it. I'm excited about the next chapter, so it shouldn't take as long. Let me know what you think!**


	5. Home Sweet Home

**Home Sweet Home**

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Mary Margaret asked for the hundredth time, as she pulled her coat on over her shoulders.

" _Yes_ ," said Emma, though she couldn't escape the feeling of dread that had settled at the bottom of her stomach. Mary Margaret seemed to notice, because she fixed Emma with the most motherly stare she'd ever seen.

"But _really_?"

"Do you want me to stay or not?" She thought that was what Mary Margaret wanted. Wasn't it? Wasn't that what she and David were telling her earlier?

Mary Margaret paused in the middle of buttoning up her coat and looked at Emma, eyes shining. They stood in the middle of the doorway. The door was open, revealing sheets upon sheets of rain. It bounced off the path, glistening in the lamplight.

"I'm just so happy you're giving this a shot."

Emma shrugged. "Yeah, well." She tried to smile, but it came out more like a painful grimace.

"C'mon!" David called from the rain, having already said his goodbyes. "It's freezing."

"Well, goodbye!" She pulled her into a warm, motherly hug. "It'll all be okay. You'll see." She rocked her side to side and Emma caught a brief whiff of cinnamon and apple shampoo. Then she was gone, out into the rain, and Emma was alone.

When they were out of sight, she closed the door and locked it. Then she took a deep breath and turned around.

He was there, as she knew he would be. Lizzie had gone to bed ages ago, so it was just the two of them. They looked into each other's faces. What Hook saw, Emma couldn't be sure. And what did she see? She had absolutely no idea.

He kept his distance, she could give him that. His expression was unreadable, though Emma found it hard at reading anything that wasn't 'murderous villain'. He didn't say anything, but watched her. To be honest, it was kind of creepy. If she stayed there any longer, her skin would crawl. She needed to get as far away from him as possible.

Finally, he spoke. 'I'll have the guest bedroom. Our bedroom is the second left.'

She didn't say anything. She just looked at him. And then he was gone.

When Emma could convince herself to move, she made her way upstairs. She pushed the door open and found herself in the oddly familiar room she'd been in when she woke up. It was whiter than she remembered, and the bed seemed bigger.

She didn't get into bed straight away. She was stuck wondering what on earth she was supposed to wear. She hadn't brought any pyjamas from Mary Margaret's. And, of course, why _would_ there be any pyjamas at Mary Margaret's? There was one thing for it. She was going to have to loot.

She tried the first chest of drawers, which was also a bedside table. She was greeted by the sight of, what she assumed to be, Killian's socks and pants. Disgusted, she slammed the doors closed and made her way over to the other chest of drawers. There were five drawers, and after closer inspection, she realised they were all hers. Since when had she needed so much stuff? Since when had she _wanted_ so much stuff?

She opened the third drawer to find it full of lace and silk. Eyes narrowed, her grabbed one of the lace garments and pulled it out. It was a _very_ revealing, _very_ lacy, _very_ red, pair of panties. Sure enough, if she continued searching, she would've found the matching bra, which was of the same style. Did she wear these for… _Hook?_ She shuddered at the thought.

There was a knock at the door. "Emma?" came Hook's voice.

 _Shit,_ she thought. Heart pounding, she shoved the garments back into the drawer and slammed it shut. The noise rattled the whole bedroom.

"Yeah?" she called back.

"Are you having trouble finding your night clothes?"

"... No."

He chuckled. "They're in the fourth drawer."

"Okay," she said. She couldn't bring herself to say thank you.

"Well… goodnight."

She didn't say anything. She just opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of safe looking pyjamas, devoid of silk or lace or any of that crap. After a while, she heard him walk away, his soft footsteps treading the carpet.

When he was gone, she dressed quickly and got into the huge, white bed. She felt dwarfed in it, and she sunk deep in the mattress. She wanted to hate it, but in truth, it was the most comfortable bed she'd ever been in. Though she was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep for hours, she felt her eyes closing in a matter of minutes.

 _This_ was an aspect she could get used to.

…

The next morning Emma woke to a delicious smell overtaking the whole house. Even though she'd shut the bedroom door tight the night before, the intoxicating scent still somehow managed to seep through the cracks.

Emma sat up and stretched her arms up high above her, yawning. She threw back the covers and walked over to the mirror, where she caught sight of her haystack of hair and pink cheeks. She rubbed her eyes, hoping to create some life in them, but they blinked sleepily back at her. That's what going through a portal will do for you.

She grabbed a dressing gown from the back of the door. She assumed it must be hers, because she doubted Hook was a man for silk and flowers. She pulled it over her shoulders and fastened the ties around her waist. The silk clung to her slender form. She found some fluffy slippers at the bottom of the bed. _They'll do_ , she thought, as she stepped into them.

She placed her hand on the door handle but didn't open it. She needed a moment to prepare herself. She was about to go downstairs to Captain Hook of all people, who seemed to be making breakfast? If Lizzie was there, she was going to have to pretend to be married to Hook, so her daughter believed everything was okay.

"You can do this," she whispered to herself.

Like she'd told David, she could handle Hook. She wasn't _scared_ of him. It was this world she was frightened of.

But she was Emma Swan. The Saviour. And the only way she was going to be able to work out the mechanics of the world was if she faced it. She could do it. Emma squared her shoulders and pulled the door open. She walked straight down the stairs without hesitating, and straight into the kitchen.

Hook was there - of _course_ he was. He had his back to her and seemed to be shaking a pan. Pancakes, _again._ What was everyone's obsession with pancakes? They seemed to be the go-to food for everyone recently.

"Mommy!" came the sound of Lizzie from the kitchen table.

The table dwarfed her, even though she was sat up as straight as she could. She was colouring in a book, a rainbow of pencils scattering the table. Her smile was something special alright. It was almost exactly like Hook's. Or perhaps, it was the eyes.

"Hey kid," she said, forcing a smile. "What're you up to?"

"Colouring," she said. "Daddy's making pancakes."

She tried not to cringe at the mention of 'daddy', though it took some effort. She caught sight of Hook then, as he turned around to face her, pan still in hand. He offered her a nod and a small smile.

"Good morning, love," he said, softly.

"Morning," she said, hoping Lizzie didn't notice how icy her voice sounded. If she did, she didn't say anything, but continued colouring. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders. She had princess hair, thought Emma.

Hook placed a plate of pancakes in the middle of the table. They were completely even in colouring and size, and they looked even more delicious than Mary Margaret's pancakes. She wondered when the murderous pirate turned into quite the cook, but she didn't say anything because of Lizzie. Instead, she sat down and shut up, grabbing a pancake and pulling it onto the plate in front of her.

Hook, to her dismay, sat opposite her. She kept her eyes firmly on her pancakes, refusing to look up at him, though she could feel his eyes on her frequently. It made her cheeks warm. Occasionally, she'd glance over at Lizzie, but she found herself staring too long, so she'd turn back to her pancakes. It was a safer option. Breakfast was eaten in silence.

Just when Emma thought she'd be stuck there forever, Hook spoke.

"Are you all ready for school, love?" he said. Emma glanced up to see his expression fixed on Lizzie.

"Uhuh," she said. "I just need to finish this picture."

His lips twitched. "But then you'll be late. I would love you to finish the picture but, alas, school awaits."

"What does alas mean, daddy?"

"It means get your bottom off this chair right now and put your shoes on."

She giggled. "No, it doesn't!"

"Then why did you ask?"

He reached over and tickled her side. After a moment they were both laughing, Lizzie's musical giggle combined with Hook's deep chuckle, and she twisted away from him. She jumped off the chair and ran out of the room, her hair bouncing as she ran. Emma watched, thinking that hair was a hazard.

Hook roze from his seat, collecting the plates and placing them in the sink to soak, all without looking at her. He walked towards the door, but had one foot in the hallway before he turned to her and said, softly, "I'm going to take Lizzie to school. Will you be okay while I'm gone?"

"I'll be fine," she said, without looking at him.

He didn't say anything else, just disappeared out the door. Emma stayed in the kitchen, staring at the maple syrup bottle. She couldn't imagine Hook being a father, but she'd just witnessed the most fatherly interaction she'd ever seen in her life.

 _No,_ she told herself. _It's not real._

Lizzie returned to hug her goodbye. Emma stayed in the chair until she heard the front door slam, and then she jumped off her seat. The first thing she did was check the kitchen drawers. They were filled with cutlery; knives, forks, spoons and other various things like that. Emma wasn't sure what she expected to find, but she couldn't leave anything unchecked.

After the kitchen, she moved into the living room, but there was nothing out of ordinary there. She wasn't sure exactly what she was looking for. Evidence, maybe. But evidence of what? Even if she found proof that Hook was still a villain, it would solve nothing. She would still be stuck here, without any way to get back to the world she knew.

She collapsed on the sofa, eyes narrowed, arms folded. She planned to stay there until Hook got back, but she couldn't sit still. She needed her armour.

So she took a shower. It took her a few moments to figure out how to work it, and to find where the towels were kept, but once she did, it was all worth it. The hot water relaxed her muscles and untensed her shoulders. She grabbed the loofah she assumed was hers, and took her time scrubbing herself clean.

After her shower, she padded around the bedroom, looking for clothes. She pulled open the closet to reveal two sets of clothes; her and Hook's. She reached for a pair of jeans, a shirt and more importantly, her red leather jacket. Her armour. Once she had it on, she felt more prepared to face him. She planned to go downstairs and face him right then, but curiosity drew her back to the closet.

She examined his side. He had an array of shirts and of black leather jackets and black jeans. Her hands traced over the clothes until she finally found what she was looking for; the coat. The coat she'd seen him wear a few days ago. The coat the _real_ Hook wore. It had an old, musty smell, like it hadn't been worn in years. Perhaps it hadn't.

There was a knock at the door. "Emma?"

Emma jumped, once again caught in the act of snooping, and shoved the coat back into the closet.

"What do you want?"

"I think we should… talk. May I come in?"

 _You can handle him,_ she said to herself, for what felt like the hundredth time, and sighed out a, "Sure."

She turned to face the door as it opened. He stepped inside slowly, as if he didn't want to startle her, and looked at her. Her hair was still wet from the shower and she didn't like him seeing her like that. She'd planned to dry it before she faced him, and put on her makeup. Armour.

"I just returned from the school," he said.

"Right."

There was a silence. She stared at him, unblinking. He seemed to want to say something. She could see it flickering behind his eyes. Eventually, he spoke.

"I just want you to know that if you have any questions, you can ask me."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Any questions?"

"Aye," he said, nodding once. "About our marriage, mainly."

"Marriage," she repeated, the name foreign on her tongue.

"I know this must be quite strange to you-"

"You don't know the half of it."

"- and honestly, Emma, you should know that I'm willing to help in any way I can. I know I must have appeared cold this morning, and that was bad form. What I'm trying to say is-" He drew in a breath. "You can trust me."

She wasn't so sure about that. She said nothing. After another nod, he turned and left abruptly. Perhaps Emma was imagining it, but she thought she saw the glistening of tears in his bright blue eyes before he left.

* * *

Emma didn't know what to do with herself, so she decided to go for a walk. Luckily, she didn't run into anyone, and that's how she wanted it to be. The cool air cleared her head, and made her feel more human. Even though the world was so different, the Storybrooke streets were the same, and comfortingly familiar to her.

Her peace didn't last very long. When the clock struck three, she made her way back to that strange house, ready to greet Lizzie getting home.

Lizzie had _just_ got home when Emma stepped through the door. She still had her coat on, following Hook and bouncing up and down as she talked. She spoke in a stream of musical jumble, sometimes stopping in the middle of the sentences to start a new one.

"- Grandma was talking about love again and we all had to say what we thought love was," she bubbled, as she followed him into the living room. Emma followed behind them.

"Did you now?"

Hook sat down on the sofa and she jumped up onto his knee and sat herself down. She grabbed his hand and started playing with his rings as she talked. Emma leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching them.

"We did! And I said- I said that love was when I rescued that bird - do you remember that? Because I didn't want it to be hurt anymore. Do you remember?"

Emma's heart softened. It actually softened. She resisted the urge to sigh, and she couldn't help the smile that curled her lips.

"And then-" she continued, still playing with Hook's rings, twisting them and inspecting them. "And then she asked about true love and I told her that you and mummy were true love."

He laughed, though it sounded weary. "What did she say to that?"

"She said that you _were_ true love. And I told her that I knew you were because when you're true love you do the sex and I told her that you do the sex all the time."

Hook spluttered. He looked up at Emma, but she tore her gaze away from him. "Who told you that?"

"Neal," said Lizzie, matter-of-factly. "He said that's what happens when you kiss and you kiss all the time." She nodded, completely sure of herself. "So I told Grandma that you do the sex in the morning and in the night and before you take me to school and when you're making dinner."

 _Oh my God._ Emma could feel it, the blush rising to her cheeks. Hook was the same, which she was surprised at. Wasn't he the epitome of sexual innuendos? Then again, she hadn't heard a single one since she'd been here.

"What- what did Grandma say to that?"

"She said she thinks you should tone it down a bit," she said.

"Bloody hell," he said.

"Bloody hell," she repeated.

"Lizzie! It's bad form to repeat such language!"

She made a face at him. "Sorry, daddy."

He kissed her forehead. "It's okay. Just don't say it in front of your grandparents."

"Hook!" Emma said, unable to stop herself. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her eyes widened. She didn't mean to contribute to their conversation, but she couldn't help it. It seemed like such a natural thing to do.

To her dismay, his eyes twinkled. "Sorry, darling."

When Lizzie was more settled, Emma watched Hook cook dinner. He was so skillful, even though he only had one hand. He made a pasta bake and Emma had to admit, it was to _die_ for. Again, she was left wondering when on earth he had become so skilled in the kitchen.

He sat opposite her and she actually raised her eyes to him this time. She couldn't help it. Every time Lizzie said anything funny - and that happened a lot - Emma's eyes would instinctively search for him and he'd find her, smiling back at him. Then she'd remember who he was, and her face would become a mask. That was until Lizzie said something funny again.

It was dangerous. She needed to keep her walls up. She realised that more than ever after Lizzie had gone to bed.

She and Hook were in the kitchen, finishing the last of the washing up. She wouldn't have offered, but Lizzie made it very clear that it was a nighttime routine that Emma and Hook wash up together. So they did. When Lizzie went to bed, they separated almost at once. Or rather, _she_ separated from _him._ She placed the teatowel on the side and made her way into the hallway, with a murmur of, "Bed."

"Emma?"

She turned to see him take a step towards her.

"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't come any closer."

He stopped walking. His expression was unreadable, his face half concealed in shadows. "You really believe I'm a villain? Even after today?"

"Aren't you?" she quipped.

"Not anymore."

"Excuse me if I don't believe you."

He considered her words for a moment before he took another step forward. She held her hand up again, but it didn't stop him. His steps were slow. Not predatory like she'd seen before, but almost as if he were testing the waters. She tried to put herself in his shoes, but deemed it completely impossible.

"And you don't remember all our years of marriage?"

"Nope."

"None of it?" He paused, deliberating, before he said, softly: "Not Lizzie being born?"

She shook her head and folded her arms, a battle stance. He took another step forward, but he was not getting past her walls.

"Our wedding day?"

The thought of _marrying_ Hook was so foreign to her, that she almost cringed. Almost. "Nope."

"Our first date?"

She shook her head.

He stopped walking. He was right in front of her, eyes trained on hers. They seemed to sparkle in the light. "The day I proposed to you?" When she didn't say anything, he continued, "It was right here, you know. You already knew." He huffed a laugh. "My typical Emma."

In any other context, his words would have made her cringe, but at the moment, it sent shivers down her spine. She'd felt the same sensation at the beanstalk. She ignored it, like she did then.

She could make out his face easier; the lines around his eyes which made him look, if possible, even more handsome.

"That wonderful night in the garden?"

She shouldn't have took the bait but it was his voice. The way it dropped a whole octave. She raised her eyebrows. "What wonderful night?"

"I don't think you're quite ready for that yet."

"Huh."

He was inches away from her now. She could smell his cologne. For once, he didn't smell like the sea. Or like he needed a bath. He was considerably much more groomed. She caught sight of the occasional grey strand in his hair.

"My point being," he said softly. "You don't remember anything?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're a little slow tonight, Hook. No."

He looked up into her eyes. It was _the_ look. That look she'd seen on the beanstalk. That look which made her unable to look away.

"Then I'll just have to make you fall in love with me all over again, won't I?"

Her quick intake of breath was enough to bring her to her senses. She shook her head and took a step back. He didn't look annoyed, like she'd expected. On the contrary, he just looked at her curiously.

"I'll have the guest bedroom again," he said and turned, making his way towards the stairs. It was so different from the way she'd seen him walk normally. There wasn't any swaggering or striding. Maybe he wasn't…

No! He was a villain. It was a trick and he was a villain. The only reason she decided to stay in the house was because of Lizzie. He was a villain. She could prove it.

"Hey, Hook?"

He paused mid stair and turned to face her. "Yes?"

She smirked, sure she had him. "You were so hellbent on your revenge. How come you didn't want it anymore? What changed your mind?"

But she didn't expect his next words.

"Don't you know, Emma? It was you."

Then he was gone.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading guys! This one's up a little late because of Uni work. But I'm off next week so expect some serious updates! And expect it to kick off from here onwards. I'M SO EXCITED.**


	6. Twenty Questions

**Twenty Questions**

* * *

When Emma woke up, it was to the sound of her phone beeping. She rolled over and grabbed it off the bedside table, squinting at the glowing screen in the bright room. The message was from… Mary Margaret? When did Mary Margaret ever text her?

 **Tried to get in touch with Henry but apparently he's out of Storybrooke. Gone on a spontaneous trip to New York with Violet. Will be back at the end of the week. Xxx**

Emma's heart sank. Almost a week had passed since she moved into the house. Mary Margaret had turned up yesterday with a hot chocolate from Granny's and the promise of a comforting chat. Emma had asked - no, _begged_ \- to see Henry. She hadn't seen him in _days_ , and there was a hole in her chest where he should have been. She was hoping seeing him would help her make sense of this mess of a situation, even if he was twenty-two. She still pictured him as that little boy she'd left back in the real world. It made her want to get back to the real Storybrooke more than ever. Henry needed her. She didn't trust Regina with him one bit, not while she was working with Cora.

She padded out the bedroom in her dressing gown, much like she'd been doing the past few days. The halls were still unfamiliar to her and it left her with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She'd only just gotten to the hallway when she heard it; the musical laugh that could only be Lizzie. A hint of a smile crossed her lips as she continued onwards, her feet hardly making a sound against the wooden flooring.

"Why are you sleeping in the other bedroom?" she asked. Emma stopped in her tracks. "Why aren't you sleeping with mummy?"

Emma inched closer to the door, which was left slightly ajar. She strained to hear Hook's words, which were so soft, she found herself pressing her ear towards the door.

"Mummy's just… well, she's just…"

"She seems different," Lizzie said with that tone of honesty that could only come from a six-year old. "She doesn't help me get ready for school."

There was a silence. Emma's heart beat in her chest. She could feel it in her throat. She took a breath, hoping that would calm her. It did little to help.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you, love," Hook said eventually. There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. "The truth is, mummy's not herself at the moment."

"She's sick?"

"Not exactly… She's just not herself." His words were slow. Careful. "Sometimes adults don't feel like themselves, and they need time to feel better. That's all."

There was another silence. Then, finally, "I don't like it."

Emma couldn't listen anymore. She turned around and went back the way she came, down the hall and up the stairs, keeping her footsteps as light as possible. _You shouldn't feel guilty,_ she told herself as she walked. Lizzie was not her child. She was a child who belonged to another Emma. A strange Emma, so it would seem. An Emma that Emma herself was unable to touch or connect with. This was not her life.

Then… why had she felt such a desire to stay and protect Lizzie? If she truly didn't care, she would have avoided this Godforsaken house at all costs. Instead, she stayed. Why had she felt that undeniable pull to a child she'd never met before? Why did she feel that wave of consuming guilt, similar to when she stole to survive, and when she gave Henry up for adoption?

She didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.

* * *

Emma spent much of her day walking - like she did most days - to avoid the one handed, eyeliner extraordinaire. The streets brought comfort to her, even if nothing else did. In truth, she hoped to see some familiar faces, and she _did._ Only, they were not as familiar as she'd expected.

She ran into Ruby one day, hand in hand with her girlfriend. Though her dark hair and eyes remained the same, Ruby looked… different. Older. Gone were the red streaks from her hair. Gone were the six-inch heels and fishnet tights. She wore simple jeans and a red shirt.

"Hey Emma," she said, with a wolfish grin. "How're you doing?"

"I'm great," she said, eyes flickering to her girlfriend.

The girlfriend smiled like she knew her, though Emma had never clapped eyes on her in her entire life. They both stood for a moment, smiling, squeezing each other's hands, looking at Emma like they expected something more.

"How're you?" she finally asked, just to be polite.

"We're good. Just been to Granny's for lunch and now we're going to walk Bertie."

 _Who the hell is Bertie?_ Emma thought. Instead, she forced a smile. "Sounds good."

"How're Killian and Lizzie?" the girlfriend asked, tilting her head.

"They're fine." She gave another smile. Her cheeks were starting to hurt. "Anyway, gotta get back. I'll see you around?"

"Sure thing!" said Ruby.

"Great seeing you, Emma," said the woman, and off they went.

Emma, having no choice but to go back to the house, turned around and headed in the opposite direction of them. Her boots crunched, almost stomping against the pavement as she walked. She hadn't wanted to go back early, but she guessed she could make a start on dinner.

Though she wasn't much of a chef, she'd decided to cook. As much as she tried to deny it, Lizzie's words resonated with something deep inside her. She still felt that unfortunate niggle of guilt every time she thought about what she'd overheard. If she was stuck here for quite some time, though she hoped she wouldn't be, she needed to act like… like…

Like what, exactly? A mother? She'd never been very good at that. She was not mother material.

She needed to act like everything was normal, at least, and a family dinner might be just the ticket.

She made her way back into the house with her hands full of bags of groceries. She kicked the door closed with her foot and waited until she heard it _click_ closed. Then she proceeded to make her way into the kitchen. She dropped the bags onto the kitchen table and began to unload them. She'd bought all manner of things; tomatoes, broccoli, pastry, milk, chocolate.

The sound of footsteps behind her made her turn. Hook strode towards her, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You've been busy."

"Not yet," she said, as she turned back to unloaded her groceries. She pulled out a bag of flour. "But I will be."

Hook leaned against the kitchen table, raising an eyebrow. "Enlighten me. What's on the menu, Chef Emma?"

"Not sure yet. Do you have any recipe books?"

"Right behind you, love."

Resisting the urge to tell him that she was _not_ his love, she turned around and saw a shelf attached to the wall above her, packed with cookbooks of all different shapes and sizes. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach. As she stretched an arm above her, fingers brushing the covers, she felt her top pull up just a little, exposing a strip of skin. Even though she couldn't see him, she felt his eyes on her, and it made her feel a little self conscious.

 _Don't be stupid,_ she told herself. She never felt self conscious.

She dragged the book from the shelf and slammed it down on the kitchen table. She skimmed the contents, looking for something she recognised. There wasn't anything. That's what eating out of her bug will do to you. Even when she had her own apartment, usually she'd order take out, or go out to restaurants. She could afford it. She was making hundreds of bucks a week.

Eventually she settled on a pasta dish which seemed easy enough. It mainly consisted of tomatoes, mushrooms, cheese and… well, pasta. The sauce took forty minutes to make, so she was going to have to start as soon as possible. She hunted through cupboards blindly, looking for pots and pans.

"You really don't remember, do you?" Hook said, after a moment of watching her struggle. "On the left. No- the- _my_ left."

She pulled the pans from the cupboard. "You think I'm a liar?"

"Of course not. We don't lie to each other."

"What _do_ we do?"

He chuckled. "That's a story for another day."

Emma allowed herself an eye roll before she shoved a pan on the stove and turned it on. She spooned butter into the pan and stirred it with a wooden spoon, waiting for it to melt.

Hook chuckled again. "Shouldn't you chop the vegetables first, love?" She looked over to see his eyes browsing over the recipe book.

"Shit _._ Yeah, I forgot about that."

She grabbed a chopping board, a knife and all the vegetables she planned to use. She was halfway through the second tomato when she caught the bitter scent of burned butter filling the kitchen. The dark yellow liquid bubbled, boiled, and gave off unpleasant clouds of smoke. She abandoned her knife, ready to run across the room, but Hook beat her to it. He took the pan from the heat and grabbed a fresh one.

"Let's try again," he said with a smile. "Keep chopping. I'll look after this. Just tell me what to do."

Emma narrowed her eyes. He seemed happy today, and she wasn't sure why, especially after overhearing the conversation between he and Lizzie. Though she doubted that it was because of an evil plot, she couldn't help but feel a little suspicious. She was _trying_ to trust him, but every time she thought she could, she remembered Hook from the _real_ Storybrooke. She remembered the way he'd looked at her through those hateful, hooded eyes, and the way he snarled. Disconnecting the two Hooks was almost impossible.

Though sometimes she caught herself believing the man she saw before her, like that night in the hallway.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, softly, half hoping he didn't hear her.

"When?"

Her voice became, if possible, even softer. "When you told me you were going to make me fall in love with you again?"

He paused so long that all she could hear was the wooden spoon scraping against the pan. She thought he hadn't heard, but then he spoke. "Yes."

She sighed, almost inaudible, as she picked up the chopping board and brought it over to where he was stirring the butter in the pot. She dropped the tomatoes into it and they began to sizzle at once, spitting butter in every direction. They both stepped back to avoid a direct hit.

When the tomatoes calmed their endless refrain of sizzling, he spoke again. "I want to help you, Emma." He looked into her eyes. "All I want is your happiness and right now, you're not happy." She opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head. "Don't argue. I know what you believe me to be, but I promise you, all I want is you to be happy."

"Prove it," she said, softly.

"Tell me how."

She tugged on the bottom of her lip, thinking over her words. "Help me go home."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "You are home, Emma."

"I'm not. This isn't my world. I don't understand any of it." Her voice was on the verge of breaking. As she looked up into his face, she knew her eyes were shining and she _hated_ herself for it. It made her feel weak. "Back in Storybrooke, I know what's going on. I have a kid who needs me."

 _Henry._ The thought of leaving him made her chest tighten so much it hurt. Embarrassingly, her eyes began to sting. She'd already abandoned him once. She couldn't do it again.

"You _are_ in Storybrooke."

"Not _my_ Storybrooke-"

"Emma-" He swallowed. "I want to help you."

"Then _help me_. What's so difficult to understand?"

"You've lost your memories. We've just got to return those memories to you."

He moved his hand up to touch her face but she flinched away, and stepped back. A look of pain crossed over his face before it became an unreadable mask. She turned from him, cold shivers rippling through her, and returned to chopping vegetables.

"I need to pick Lizzie up." His tone had a harder edge to it. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Just go, Hook."

"I've already told you that you can ask me anything about our marriage. I'll be as honest as I can. Perhaps that will provide the answers you're looking for."

" _Go._ "

She heard his boots against the floor, and then she heard the front door close. Only when he was gone, did she allow a few tears to escape her, and run down her cheeks. She wiped the wetness away with her sleeve and blinked until the blurriness disappeared.

He was a liar. He claimed he wanted to help her, but when it came down to it, he refused. Just like everyone else. She chopped a mushroom a little too hard and half of it flew across the kitchen. _Stupid pirate,_ she thought as she stomped over to it and picked it up. She ought to have pushed him off that damn beanstalk. Then all her problems would be gone.

But what ifs and maybes weren't going to help her now. Hook was right. She _did_ need answers. Perhaps if she could piece their life together, she could find proof that it wasn't real.

No, that was a stupid idea.

But _perhaps,_ she thought with a sly smile, she could _still_ use the answers to her advantage. She knew how to manipulate people. Hell, she'd done it for years and years before Henry dragged her to Storybrooke. Maybe she could manipulate him into helping her. There wasn't any guarantee that it would work, but she could _try._

By the time Hook returned with Lizzie, she had the beginnings of a plan formed in her head.

Lizzie ran towards her, still in her coat, and Emma knelt down and opened her arms wide. Lizzie hurtled into her, headbutting her in the process, but Emma laughed it off and held her tightly.

"Hey, kid. How was school?"

"It was great!" Lizzie said, releasing Emma. "We learned about magic and it was _the best._ "

"I bet it was," she said, poking her in the tummy. "Now, go and hang your coat up. I'm making something super special for dinner."

"You are?" Her eyes lit up. "Chocolate cake?"

"Close." Emma couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. She pressed a quick kiss to her daughter's forehead and watched with a smile as she ran out of the kitchen.

She returned to her feet to see Hook hovering in the doorway, a troubled expression on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but she held a hand up to stop him.

"Don't. You were right earlier," she said, with words she'd rehearsed perfectly a few moments before. "I just need to understand. So I'm going to take you up on your offer, and I want you to tell me everything about our marriage."

His face lit up and Emma almost felt guilty. Almost. "Love, that's great to hear."

"After Lizzie has gone to bed?" she asks. "We could talk over rum."

"Nothing would make me happier."

She indulged him in a smile and he smiled back. Lizzie returned to the room having shed her coat, clutching a drawing she'd drawn earlier. It was of her using magic. Emma studied it and praised her for it, and then proceeded to pin it on the fridge. Lizzie glowed with pride.

Dinner wasn't nearly as awkward as usual. They laughed and they joked with Lizzie, and everything just seemed lighter. Hook was lighter because he actually believed Emma was going to make an effort with him. Emma was lighter because she knew she had to be if she wanted this to work.

The plan was to ask him all manners of questions. The good, the bad, the easy, the difficult. She would ask him questions on his own, and when they were with people. She would bring up uncomfortable truths and she would make him _squirm._ And then he'd help her, whether he liked it or not.

When they were all done with dinner, Killian washed up. When Emma tried to help, he batted her with the tea towel until she walked away.

Killian was the one who supervised Lizzie in the bath. Emma helped her get ready for bed and playfully shouted at her when she didn't brush her teeth. The whole mother thing was coming easier than she expected. At least, when she was actually trying. Both Hook and Emma said goodnight to her at the same time, which was a first. They took turns kissing her forehead and murmuring their goodnights.

"I love you mummy, I love you daddy," Lizzie said, as she pulled the covers up to her chin.

"We love you too, darling," said Hook, as he turned the light off. "Sleep tight."

They trailed out the room and Emma felt a sense of calm come over her. They headed downstairs and into the kitchen, where Hook poured them both a glass of rum.

"Can I ask you questions now?" she asked, eager to put her plan into action.

"Of course," he said, and began to make his way to the kitchen door.

"No," she said. "Here."

He pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. She followed his lead, sitting directly opposite him. That way she could see his face. She'd be able to tell if he was lying to her, and she could work out his every reaction. If there was a change in him, she'd know. She was ready.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, as he took a swig of his rum, and leaned back on the chair. So he was relaxed. That was good. It would make it easier.

"I'll start easy. Who's Ruby's girlfriend?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "That is an excellent question about our marriage."

"Cut the attitude. I ran into them today and I had no idea who she was."

"Dorothy."

A sigh escaped her. "Oh god. You don't mean like the Wizard of Oz, right?"

"She is from Oz, aye."

Emma groaned and took a sip of her rum. She thought Storybrooke had exhausted the number of fairytale residents that it could possibly have and yet, here she was, listing to Captain fricking Hook tell her about dog-loving, Kansas-living, possibly singing Dorothy. Who happened to be dating Red Riding Hood. Could her life get any weirder? If Captain Hook wasn't claiming to be married to her, she would consider it possible.

"You're gonna have to bear with me," she said, leaning back in her own chair. "I need to know _everything_ because I don't have any idea. I'm trying to remember you, but I can't." She thought of all the uncomfortable questions she planned to ask and added, "Things might get a bit… rocky."

"Ask away, love. I've sailed a few bumpy seas in my time. I'm rather used to rocky." He flashed a smile.

She took another sip of rum to steady herself. "What's our relationship like? Honestly?"

"Honestly?" He scratched the back of his head. "It's marvelous. We have our rough patches, as all people do, but we always survive it. We are survivors." A ghost of a smile passed his lips. He wasn't lying. Good start.

"Do we argue?"

"Sometimes."

"When was our last argument?"

He had to think about that. He tilted his head, drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. "A few weeks ago. You asked me to hang washing on the line, but it slipped my mind. We argued about other things I'd forgotten too, such as washing up after dinner, using the hoover contraption to clean the floor."

She sucked on her bottom lip. "Would you say that caused a rift in our relationship?"

"No more than usual." He raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, I made it up to you. Thoroughly."

She ignored his comment, but processed his information. It seemed like they had a normal relationship, which surprised her. Nothing about marrying Captain Hook was normal.

"Do we have any secrets from each other?"

"No."

The way he answered quickly, with a note of finality to it, caught her attention. He was looking right back into her eyes, jaw set.

"Touchy subject?" she asked.

"No."

"You're lying. Don't try to lie to me, Hook. You know who I am. It won't work."

He swigged his rum. "When we were… engaged, and even before, we seemed to develop a problem with keeping secrets from each other."

"What type of secrets?"

He gave a humourless laugh, and looked down into the liquid. "Ask me later."

"What type of secrets?" she repeated.

"I promise you, love, I'll tell you." He raised his eyes to hers. "But not today."

She narrowed her eyes. That was fine. For now. She planned to keep her questions going for a long time. Those he didn't answer, she'd ask him again and again and again until he cracked. She would use all manner of breaking him if she had to.

She moved onto easier things. She asked him who decorated the house and why. He said everything had changed over the years, so it was a joint effort. She asked him which one of her parents were his favourite. Apparently he didn't have one; he loved them both.

"When was our first kiss?" she asked.

His lips twitched into a smile. "Neverland. You instigated it and I'm bloody glad you did."

" _Me?_ " She didn't mean her voice to come out so shocked. She just never imagined allowing her walls to slip so much that she kissed him. She was attracted to him, yes, but she was smart. At least, she thought she was.

"It went on for ten minutes."

" _No!_ "

He chuckled. "Maybe I'm exaggerating; perhaps it was ten seconds. Everything blurs a little over time. I think it was our second kiss that lasted ten glorious minutes."

He went on to tell her about other kisses they'd shared, especially those from their younger days, and Emma got bored after a while. It was time to move onto harder, more embarrassing things.

"When was the first time we had sex?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you'd like to know?"

"Yes," she said. Then, casually added: "I figure it was early in the relationship? Just because you're riddled with those sexual innuendos, I bet you wasted little time in getting me into bed."

His eyes darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just wondering what tricks you had to try to actually get me to sleep with you." She watched his face, every flicker in those blue eyes, every clench of his jaw.

"You instigated it," he said, slowly.

She gave a humourless laugh. "I find that hard to believe."

"I may have been a villain, but I was nothing but a gentleman. I wouldn't pressure- I _didn't_ \- I would _never_ -"

"Tell me about it, then. How did I 'instigate it'?"

He rubbed his forehead, no longer smiling. "To be honest, I can't remember all the details. I believe it was sometime after our first date. I'd rented a room in Granny's. I'd had my heart removed and you put it back for me. I'd almost forgotten how it was to… feel." His voice trails off at the end. He takes a large gulp of his rum.

"Why didn't we have any more children?"

He sighed. "That's a… difficult question."

"You told me you'd answer anything," she accused.

He fixed her with a bright blue gaze. "I thought you meant to ask questions about our marriage as it is, not as it was."

"Fine," she said, pleased to see him shuffling awkwardly. "I don't have any more questions for you."

 _For now,_ she thought, as she watched him finish off his rum. She was ready to set part two of her plan in motion, and then she could move swiftly onto phase three. She knew that was when he'd break. That's when he'd have no choice but to help her.

* * *

 **Hey guys, thanks for reading! I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know what you think :)**


	7. Too Much, Too Far

Too Much, Too Far

* * *

Hook cornered Emma in the kitchen after he dropped Lizzie off at school.

She was only just out the shower, hair loose and freshly dried, clothes soft against her skin. Other-Emma had a different fashion sense than her. She was more into soft jumpers and dresses, whereas Emma prefered a good pair of jeans and a tank top. She managed to get a good night's sleep the night before, so she had woken early and bright-eyed.

Hook, on the other hand, didn't look like he was faring so well. His face was pale with sleepless nights, his eyes bloodshot and tender. If Emma didn't know him any better, she'd say he was heartbroken. That was the feeling she got from him every time he fixed her with those wounded puppy-dog eyes she was so unused to seeing.

"I have something to tell you, love," he said.

She turned, in the midst of drying a plate, and raised her eyebrows in response.

"Now, bear with me…"

She didn't like the sound of that. She turned to face him, folding her arms, battle stance at the ready. Was he going to tell her to stop with the questions? He hadn't objected to them last night, but she could tell he was at breaking point, especially when she started quizzing him on their sex-life... and his villainy. They were touchy subjects. She made note to use them as button pushers later, when the occasion arose.

"What?" she asked. When she realised how hostile her voice sounded, she added, softer, "What's up?"

"We've been invited out to dinner," he said, grimly, watching her with those bright blue eyes. She looked away from his gaze, finding that it burned into her too much.

"Okay?"

"With your mother and father."

"That's it?" She almost laughed.

She noted the relief on his face. She thought it would be much worse, especially with the way he was acting. But her parents, she could handle. In fact, she could probably use them to her advantage. She smiled, unable to stop herself, and he caught it before she dropped her expression into something more neutral. He must have mistook it, for his own face broke out into a smile, and for a moment it was so blinding she couldn't look away. She had _never_ seen him smile like that, not once, not even when he flirted so shamelessly with her.

"I need to go and sort out the laundry," he said, still smiling. He made his way to the door but turned just shy of it. "And Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Glad to see a bit of the old you."

The twist of guilt in her gut surprised her.

* * *

So, it was settled. Lizzie, Neal and Archie were to stay with Belle, who took on her babysitting duties with enthusiasm. She turned up at the door a, little earlier than expected, to pick Lizzie up. Emma couldn't notice how much happier she seemed. Nothing like the shy, closed-off Belle she had known back in the other Storybrooke.

"You're alright having three of them sleep over?" Emma heard Killian ask.

"It will be my pleasure."

Emma had yet to come down the stairs. She was perched at the top of the landing, listening to their conversation, and glimpsing Belle from around the corner. She hadn't worked up the courage to go down the stairs yet, and she wasn't quite finished getting ready but she wanted to hear what tales Hook spun when she wasn't around. Was it just her he was fooling, or was it the whole town?

"Brilliant. Thanks again, love."

"No problem," she said, holding her hand out for Lizzie to take. "Have you said goodbye to mummy?" she asked her.

Lizzie nodded. "Yeah, I went upstairs to say goodbye. She's getting ready."

"I'll give her your love," Killian said to Belle.

"Please do."

He gave his daughter one last wave before she disappeared down the path with Belle. When Emma heard the door close, she scrambled back into the bedroom, heart pounding in her chest.

She needed to finish getting ready. It wouldn't do to be distracted. She caught sight of the jewelry she laid out on the bed for herself, and crossed the room to pick it up. Usually she wasn't the jewelry type, but today she wanted to make an impression on Killian. It was all part of her game plan.

She laid out a glimmering necklace, a few bracelets, and earrings. They were all silver, sparkling in the light when she picked them up. She fastened her earrings first, pushing back her freshly curled hair. She'd been wearing her hair less curly recently, because she hardly had time to shower with all the monsters running about, let alone spend hours in front of the mirror. But she found she missed it, as she pinched a curl between her fingertips. It was reminiscent of a bail bonds Emma; someone who did whatever she had to to get answers.

That was who she needed to be tonight.

Perhaps that was why she'd decided on a tight black dress she found in the back of the wardrobe. This body was older than her normal one, but she still managed to pull it off. If she and Hook were _really_ married, he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off her, and that would make everything run much more smoothly. She paired it with black kitten heels.

She was just about to go downstairs when a breeze wafted from the open window, straight to her bare legs. She felt the goosebumps rise and the cold run through her. Stockings would help that. Now, where would they be?

She started with the drawers, pulling them open, and peering inside. She thoroughly looked through panties, socks and bras, but she wasn't able to find the stockings. She decided to try her luck on the lingerie drawer she'd found one of the first few nights she'd been here. She felt around, and found not stockings, but the red lacy panties and bra she'd come across before. As she pulled them out of the drawer, another thought struck her.

It would be bad…

But if it worked, it would be oh so useful…

Her lips curled into a slow smile. Yes, those would come very useful later tonight, but not until after the meal. He'd have a few drinks, and so would she, to get her confidence up.

Captain Hook really didn't know what he was in for.

* * *

"Wow, Emma," Hook said as she walked down the stairs, smiling at him in greeting. "You look beautiful, but we're just going to Granny's."

She stepped off the bottom step. "Is it bad that I wanted to dress up?"

"You won't find _me_ complaining." She noticed Captain Hook flashed in Killian Jones' eyes.

When she held her hand out for him he looked at it, surprised, but she nodded. He took it. His hand felt strange in hers, and the feeling of his touch made her want to snatch it out of his immediately, but she pushed the thought away and smiled at him. She was going to have to be on her best behaviour if her plan was going to work.

For now.

…

By the time they got to Granny's, Mary Margaret and David were already there, sat in a booth. They smiled at them as they made their way in. David stood up immediately and took Emma's coat, murmuring a, "You look beautiful."

"Thanks Dav- uh, dad." She cringed at herself.

She sat next to Mary Margaret, who she deemed safe territory. Mary Margaret smiled at her with glowing eyes, and handed her a menu.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, with a smile.

"A lot better, thanks mom."

"Killian told us you were making more of an effort. I'm really glad to hear that, Emma. You'll be back to your old self in no time."

"I think you might be right."

They order drinks. Hook decided on rum, no surprises there, and Emma ordered a big glass of red wine. She gulped down half of it as soon as the waitress set it on the table in front of her. She ignored everyone's worried eyes on her, as she set it back on the table with a louder _clink_ than necessary.

"Right, what are we ordering?"

Everyone ordered burgers. When the waitress came, Hook ordered onion rings for Emma instead of fries, and fixed her with a smile. She had to force herself to smile back, alarm bells ringing in her head. He knew her too well. They'd been married for years.

 _He knew her too well._

They were in the middle of waiting for the food when Emma decided to bring up the questions.

"Hook and I have found a way to beat the amnesia," she said, gulping more wine. With everyone's eyes on her, attentive and listening, she continued. "We're playing 20 questions. Aren't we?"

"That we are," he said, taking a steady sip of his rum. His eyes were guarded as he watched her.

"So I might ask Hook some questions during dinner- and I might ask you some too, is that okay?"

"Of course Emma," Mary Margaret said, reaching across to take her hand. She squeezed warmly. "We are willing to do anything to help you. Please ask us anything you think might help."

"I will," she said, suppressing her smile.

She decided to bide her time. She listened to Mary Margaret talk about Neal, and how he refused to do his homework, because -according to him- he was a prince and princes didn't have to do homework. David rolled his eyes as he listened to his wife tell the story, interrupting to add that algebra is much less work than sword fighting or horse training, or all the other things a prince has to do to rule the Kingdom. Mary Margaret mentioned that she had to get through three thick volumes a week when she was learning how to be a princess. It taught her discipline and helped her realise the true sacrifices princesses have to make.

Emma tried not to seem bored by the conversation when, truthfully, it was a little out of her depth. She couldn't imagine Mary Margaret as a princess, or David as a prince, and she didn't want to. It all seemed so far away from her, and though she knew it was true, she couldn't connect herself to the reality of it.

"I'm sure Neal will grow out of it," said Hook. "He's a smart lad. If it's a sword fighting lesson he wants, perhaps I could teach him a few tricks."

"Yeah, like how to play dirty, _pirate_ ," David said, but the tone was playful. She was surprised to see the men exchange wide smiles, and it put her on edge. Who'd have thought they'd end up becoming such good friends? It sent a shudder right through her.

Only when the food arrived, did Emma put her plan into action. She waited until everyone had cut into their burgers before she got out, "So, what do you guys think of our marriage?"

David swallowed a mouthful. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think it's happy?"

Mary Margaret and David exchanged looks, before she too swallowed her own mouthful. "Haven't you asked Kill-"

"Yes, but I'm asking you. I don't think Ho- Killian would lie." She directed a forced smile at Hook, who had become very still. "But I want your side of it. Please understand, I'm trying to piece all of this together. I can't do that if you won't help me."

"Of course you're happy, Emma," Mary Margaret said. "I've never known a couple so in love, or so trusting as you two."

Emma somehow found that hard to believe, but she nodded along nevertheless, and took a bite out of her burger. Despite how ever many years seemed to have passed, it still tasted exactly the same as she remembered. Same recipe or… magic?

She decided to ask simpler questions, rather than reel out the big one she planned to ask. She asked them how often they come around to the house.

"Every week, of course!" said David. "Though, not in the mornings anymore. Not since we walked in on you making -uh - pancakes."

According to David, Neal slept over at her house a lot. According to Mary Margaret, he loved his Auntie Emma, who managed to make him smile more than anyone else. Emma found that hard to believe too. She couldn't even keep hold of her own kid, how would she be able to charm others?

She wanted to know how she suddenly came to trust them so much, and when she started to call them 'mom and dad', but she didn't want to offend them, so she kept her mouth shut about that. It was only when they were halfway through dessert - strawberry and lemon cheesecakes - that Emma decided to bring out the harder questions.

"So dad," she said, with a butter-wouldn't-melt smile, "How come you let me marry Captain Hook?"

His smile faltered, but only for a second. "What do you mean?"

"Were you happy with that?"

His eyes flickered over to Hook and back to Emma, his smile growing wider. "Of course I was. I love Killian. I couldn't have picked a better match for you myself- of course, not that we pick matches here, not since the Enchanted Forest."

Her smile remained plastered to her face. That was _not_ the answer she was hoping for. She didn't want to have to do it, but she was going to have to up her game. They had forced her hand.

"So you really don't mind?"

"Don't mind what?"

"That I married a pirate?"

Hook gave a small cough. She looked over to him. His eyes were unreadable. "I think we all know I'm not that man any more."

"Do we?" The stare she fixed him with was unblinking. She turned back to her parents. "I mean, do you really believe he just woke up one day and changed? You're heroes. And he is- was- a villain."

"What sort of heroes would we be if we didn't believe people could change?" Mary Margaret asked, gently. "Your father and I, we've done things we're not proud of-"

"But I doubt you've killed countless innocent people," she said. She finished off her glass of wine. She needed her courage for her next words. "Come on, dad. How do you _really_ feel that that hand- the hand that so gently brushes hair off my face-"

"Emma, don't do this," Killian said. She didn't even look at him.

"-Or that hand, that have so softly touched-"

"Emma!"

"-have also ran a sword through innocents, hell, for the fun of it. How does it make you feel that your little girl married a man who ripped wives from husbands?"

"Emma, _please,_ " Hook's voice was pained, but she wasn't falling for it.

"-who ripped fathers from their children?"

"Emma!" Mary Margaret shouted.

She finally looked into her parents' faces. They were red, but that wasn't what got her. They were looking into her face like they didn't know her at all. They shook their heads, but she didn't let it get to her. She couldn't.

She threw down her napkin and rose from her seat. Without uttering another word, she turned and left Granny's, out into the cold. No-one called after her, even though she half expected them to. She gulped down cold air, sighing as a breeze hit her warm skin. She needed the air to think, to clear her head.

She wondered if they were talking about her, shaking their heads, muttering how she's not the Emma that they know and love. _Good,_ she thought savagely. Maybe then they'd realise that she's _not_ the real Emma, and send her back to the real Storybrooke, instead of keeping her at this God awful hell of a place.

She heard footsteps behind her. And of course when she turned, Hook was right there, closing the distance between them in a matter of strides. His eyes were dark, and his expression was still unreadable. She turned away from him, and out into the street, folding her arms. He came to stand beside her. He didn't speak for a while. The only sound was the crickets' soft chirping, and the faint sound of music coming from the diner. Finally, he spoke.

"What do you want me to do, Emma?"

She turned away from him, away from his gaze which was so uncharacteristically patient, and kept her own gaze fixed on the street. He sighed.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."

…

The journey was silent. Emma didn't utter a word to him, and he didn't utter a word to her. She wondered why he didn't try and make conversation with her, or ask her what that was all about, and then she would tell him that the only way she would stop would be if he promised to help her get back to the _real_ Storybrooke. But he didn't speak.

They went their separate ways when they returned to the house. Killian went straight into the kitchen, and she heard the sound of a bottle hitting the side, and liquid being poured in a glass before she continued on up the stairs.

She had intended to kick off her heels, to get into her pajamas and go to sleep, but the red garments on the bed caught her eye and she remembered the next part of her plan. She smiled as she picked up the lacy red bra.

 _Let's see what kind of man you really are, Captain._

…

It took all of her courage. Three times she made it out into the hall, and ran back into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, talking herself into it. She _needed_ to do this _tonight_ , if she was going to do it at all. Lizzie wasn't here, which made it the perfect opportunity.

She stood back up. She'd swapped her black heels for some red ones, to match the lacy undergarments she wore. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. The red stood out against her creamy skin, and it did wonders for the golden tones in her hair. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled at her reflection.

She was Emma Swan. She wasn't scared of anything. And she _definitely_ wasn't scared of Captain Hook.

She made her way down the stairs, slowly, in her heels. He was no longer in the kitchen, but in the living room. He was sat on the sofa, his back to her as he looked into the fire, like something out of a storybook. His hand was clasped around a glass of rum. She watched as he brought it up and took a long, slow sip.

She leaned against the doorframe, placing one hand on her hip, the other against the door.

"Well, hello there _Captain_."

He jumped out of his seat and turned around. His eyes almost bulged out of his head as he took her in. "Bloody hell, _Emma?"_

"What do you think?"

She watched as he stood up, glass left forgotten as he approached her, eyes still wide.

"What do I _think?_ "

She almost rolled her eyes. Almost. But instead, she sauntered forward, swaying her hips, borrowing some of that confidence she seemed to possess during one night stands. The idea was to seduce, not be vulnerable.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What do you _think_ I'm doing?"

She came to a stop in front of him and touched the collar of his shirt. He didn't move away from her, but he didn't take her in his arms like she thought he would. He stared at her, expression torn, eyebrows knit together. She dragged her hand from the collar down his chest, skimming over the buttons.

"Emma…" he warned.

But she continued her path, right down to the bottom of his shirt. It was a move that always worked, especially when she slowed the trail of her hand.

"Don't you want this?" she asked, blinking innocently up at him.

He caught her hand. "Emma," he warned again, though there was something in his voice. It was deeper. There was an edge to it. She smiled.

"C'mon." She leaned in and whispered, "What do you say?"

The pause was long. She didn't like being so close to him- it put her on edge. His face was so close to hers, she could see each individual tiny hair on his chin. She could smell the sweetness of the rum coming off his tongue, and something else, perhaps a sea salt shower gel. She hadn't been nearly this close to him since they were on the beanstalk and he'd bandaged her hand.

"No," he finally said.

"No?" Her tone was laced with surprise. "What do you mean "no"?"

"I won't take advantage of you, not when you're like this." He moved a hand up to stroke hair from her face, but she flinched away from his touch. "You won't even let me _touch_ you like this, Emma. How am I supposed to make love to you?"

No, that's not the answer she wanted. She hadn't intended to sleep with him, but get him to try it on with her, so she could prove what she'd already known; he was a villain, and always would be. There was a quick jolt of shame, but she pushed it away and inched forward to him.

"Oh _c'mon._ "

She leaned in for a kiss, but he caught her by her shoulders. His jaw was set, his eyes stern. " _No."_

She caught him by his collar and pulled him towards her with all the force she could muster, crashing her lips to his. They both stumbled before regaining their balance. His lips were soft- softer than she had imagined- but when she tried to move her mouth with his, there was no response. He gently but firmly pushed her away, and though she resisted, he was too strong for her.

"Emma, please don't do this." The look he gave her was earnest. "I _know_ you do not want to do this."

"Look, you're an attractive man. A girl has needs."

She moved to kiss him again but he placed a finger on her lips. She looked up at him and for a second he seemed to be amused, his eyebrow quirking up.

"I knew you'd come around eventually love," he said, and his tone was teasing. "But I really don't think this is the best idea."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"I've told you why not. I- can't. That's not who I am. Not any more."

She scoffed. "Yeah right."

Then all at once his face moved from gentle, kind and patient to dark in a matter of seconds. It wasn't anger exactly, but pain, and it cast a shadow over every one of his features. He took a step back from her.

"That's why you're doing this," he said, with quiet realisation. "You're trying to see what kind of man I am. I thought that perhaps- perhaps you were remembering, perhaps a part of you missed-" He shook his head. "But you're playing me. That's what the questions are about, aren't they? You've not been forthright with me. You're not trying to remember. You're manipulating me."

He looked at her, waiting for her to deny it, but she couldn't. For some reason, she couldn't lie to him.

"What do you expect me to do?" she finally asked. "Huh? You won't help me. What am I supposed to do?"

"I expect you to come to me."

"I _did_ come to you. And, in case you've forgotten, _you_ refused to help me."

His face changed from stony back to gentle. He took a step towards her, voice soft as he said, "Emma, I am trying to help you. I promise. We all are. I just want you to rememb-"

"I haven't forgotten anything!" she shouted. She hadn't intended to lose her temper, but she knew if he said the words 'remember' one more time, she was going to lose it. And suddenly, it was like she couldn't stop, and words were pouring out of her. "All you care about is getting the "old Emma" back, like I have amnesia. Well guess what? I _don't._ And you won't even entertain the possibility that what I'm saying might be true. You've convinced yourself that I'm wrong without even listening to my side of the story. You- and the rest of my family- are all hearing what _you_ want to hear."

"Emma-"

"How would _you_ feel if one day you were arresting Captain Hook for _shooting_ someone, another living human being who has done _nothing_ wrong. He looked me in the eyes and he told me that he didn't care who he hurt, as long as he got his revenge. Then suddenly, later that day, I'm married to him? The villain, Captain Hook?"

He clenched his jaw. "I told you, I'm not that man anymore."

"Then I don't know who you are, because you clearly don't care enough about me to help me. And I feel _sorry_ for this Emma who you claim is your wife."

"How do you think _I_ feel?" he shouted.

She scoffed and folded her arms.

"My wife woke up one day and suddenly she's not my wife anymore. She refuses to _look_ at me because she finds me repulsive. She is frightened of me." He takes a step towards her. "I cannot hold her. I cannot even talk to her, because she is under the impression that I am a villain."

"You shot Belle!"

"I am _not_ that man any more," he bellows in her face. "I know who I was. I know what I did. Do not think for one second that I've forgotten."

"I don't understand."

"What's so hard to comprehend, Emma?" He stalks towards her now, and she steps backwards with him. "Yes, I was a villain, but I confronted my past, and I learned from it. I changed for the better, and that was all because of you." He takes a breath, and she thinks he's done but then he says, "You changed too."

Changed? She flinched.

"I didn't- don't need to change."

"Well that's where you're wrong," he said, softly now. "You were closed off. You put yourself before others. Your walls were so high, you couldn't even see over them yourself, let alone break them down." He paused, studying her face. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you are not my Emma. My Emma is open. She's caring, selfless, but most importantly, she is open to love."

Emma wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold, suddenly _very_ aware that she is hardly wearing a thing. Goosebumps rise on her arms.

"Well there's one thing I don't buy," she says, without looking at him.

"What's that?"

"I could never and would never love you."

The tension in the air was thicker than it had ever been. She expected him to shout at her, to tell her to get out, to revert to his usual ways, but when she looked up at him, he was not even looking at her. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.

"Fine," he said, so quietly, she wasn't sure she heard him right.

"What?"

"I said fine. I'll help you. Starting tomorrow, we will work out a plan, and we'll get you back to wherever you bloody came from."

He strode past her and out into the hallway. She heard his footsteps thunder up the stairs. The guest bedroom door slammed shut. Emma stood there for some time, arms wrapped around herself.

She had gotten what she wanted. So why was it that she felt like she hadn't won at all?

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!**


	8. A Helping Hand

A Helping Hand

* * *

If Emma thought Hook was cold before, that was nothing compared to how he was acting with her now. Even though he said he'd help her, he hadn't brought up a plan of action, or mentioned it since. She knew - or at least she thought she knew - it was because she had said that she did not love him. That was the breaking point. The point of no return.

Belle dropped Lizzie off in the afternoon. She hurled through the hallway and threw herself straight into Emma's arms. She hugged her back gratefully, surprised by how much brighter the house suddenly seemed with this force of nature. Even Hook couldn't be completely cold to her, not with Lizzie there, not if he wanted to keep her blissfully unaware of her parent's predicament. Lizzie acted as something of a safety net. For now.

"How was your sleepover?" Emma asked as she made them drinks.

Lizzie had inherited her love of hot cocoa with cinnamon, which she'd found out when Lizzie pulled herself up onto a kitchen chair, banged her fists on the table and demanded a hot cocoa.

"It was good! We played truth or dare. Neal dared me to eat a worm, and I did."

"Huh," she said, as she shook the can of cream. Kids really had a simple way of looking at things. "How did it taste?"

"Could've been worse," she said, with a casual shrug.

Emma placed the hot cocoas on the kitchen table in front of them and pushed one towards her daughter, who grasped it in both hands. The mug was too big for her, and Emma couldn't help but admit it was adorable. Especially when she lifted to mug to her lips and ended up with a cream moustache.

Emma leaned against the kitchen table, taking a sip of her own hot cocoa, eyes fixed on her daughter.

"Why's daddy sad?" she asked, so abruptly, so simply. Emma wondered whether she had actually said it at all, or whether it was her guilt bleeding out.

"You think daddy's sad?" she asked carefully.

Lizzie nodded. "I can tell. He tries to smile, but I can tell."

Emma swallowed, aware of how dry her mouth was. She tried to push the thought of Hook away, but somehow he found a way back into her mind. She couldn't help the twist she felt in her stomach whenever she thought of him. She hated it. She shouldn't feel like this. She'd done nothing wrong; she had done what she needed to do to get answers. He was nothing to her.

Except, she was something to him…

 _No, No, No._ It wasn't real! It wasn't.

Her mind was so consumed with Hook, she was glad when the phone rang, shrill and loud in the kitchen. She jumped up from the table and hurtled towards the phone, a natural instinct. When she reached it, she paused, hand outstretched. What if it was someone she didn't want to speak to, someone who believed her to be this new-Emma?

"Are you just gonna let it ring?" Lizzie asked.

She sighed, only slightly, and picked up the phone, pressing it to her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

"Emma!" came the voice of Mary Margaret.

And just like that, she felt another twist in her gut as last night came flooding back to her. She remembered her parents faces as she'd coaxed information out of them, and she remembered Hook's face as he realised she was manipulating him. She had never seen anyone look so broken before.

"What's up?" she asked instead.

"I have some news…"

Emma grimaced. News? That didn't sound good.

"Henry's back."

Emma's heart gave a jolt. "Henry's back?"

"He and Violet only just got back this morning." She clutched the phone tight to her ear, straining to hear every word. "He wanted to ring you himself, but I explained the situation. I said it might be too strange to hear his voice, since the last you remember of him, he was a child. I thought it would be better to meet in person."

"Where is he? Can I see him?"

"He's here now." She paused and Emma heard an unrecognisable voice in the background. It was deep, a man's voice. Is that Henry?

"I'm coming over."

"He thought you might say that. I'll see you soon?"

"You will."

Emma placed the phone back on the hook. For the first time, fear or confusion wasn't the only thing she was feeling. She felt the flutter of excitement inside her as it spread.

She let Hook know where she was going, and though he wanted to come, she told him it would be better if he stayed at home to look after Lizzie. He sat back in the living room chair, jaw set, and didn't argue. There it was again. The pesky twist in her gut.

* * *

She practically ran up the stairs to Mary Margaret's apartment. She knocked and the door flew open almost immediately. Mary Margaret's face was suddenly right in front of her, but she hardly saw it. She cast her eyes around the room, but she couldn't see properly; her mother was in the way.

"Come on in," she said with a small smile, and stepped back.

The first thing she noticed was that the boxes were still there, towering above her. In her elation, she had forgotten that her parents were planning to move. She briefly wondered why they hadn't yet, but all thoughts of that left her head when she realised she couldn't see Henry.

"Henry?" she asked. When she couldn't see him, louder, " _Henry_?"

He came into view and the man who stood before her was her son and not her son all at once. For a moment, all she could do was gape at him. He was so _tall_ , taller than her by at least a head, and a little bit lanky. She could see her son in his face, but the child's roundness was gone, replaced by a hard jawline. The eyes were the same, though.

"Mom," he said, and his voice was deep. _Too_ deep.

She debated turning around and running back down the stairs but before she could, he was striding across the room to her, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. For a moment, she just let him hug her, unsure of what to do. But the longer he hugged her, the more her resolve softened, and she wrapped her arms around him. He stroked her hair.

"It's just me, mom," he said into her ear. "Don't worry, it's just me."

Only a small cough from Mary Margaret could separate them and they broke apart, turning towards her. Emma fixed her with a look.

"How much did you tell him, exactly?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but Henry beat her to it.

"Everything," he said. "She told me everything."

Emma only gawped at him. She couldn't keep her eyes away from his face. She clung to his eyes, finding familiarity in them, but she was unable to comprehend what she was seeing in front of her. Where was the eleven year-old boy she knew and loved? How did he get so… old?

"Do you wanna, uh, go for a walk?" he asked, gesturing to the open door.

"Sure." It was all she could say.

Henry turned to Mary Margaret. "Is that alright? You don't mind, do you? It's just, I kinda want some alone time with my mom."

"Not at all," she said, with a smile. Though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She cast a worried look at Emma. "I'll see you later?"

"See you later, Grandma," he said, with a wink. He grabbed his coat from where he'd folded it over the kitchen chair and brushed past Emma out into the hallway. When she didn't move, he turned to her. "Coming?"

She shook her head, trying to snap out of it, and followed him out into the hallway.

They didn't say much as they walked down the stairs and back out into the streets. Emma didn't know what to say. She was too busy watching his every movement, unable to keep her eyes off his face. If he noticed, he didn't say anything. He seemed deep in thought, scratching the back of his head as they walked, almost as if he was thinking of what to say. Eventually, he suggested ice-cream.

She agreed, but it felt… strange. Usually she was the one taking Henry out for ice-cream, not the other way around, but he insisted on paying. He bought them both rocky roads and they walked down to the docks, silently eating ice-cream.

"I bet this must be weird for you, huh?" he asked, after swallowing a mouthful of ice-cream.

She nodded. "The last time I saw you, you'd just had your eleventh birthday."

"That feels like so long ago."

"It feels like yesterday."

She asked what he'd been up to, and he told her about Violet, and their house. He claimed it to be one of the most beautiful places he's ever seen, just to his and Violet's taste. She was back at the house right now, unpacking their cases after their impromptu trip. He said that Emma would have to come around to look at the house, and Violet would make the apple crumble Emma liked so much-

"But you don't know that, because she hasn't made it for you yet," he said.

His wording made her snap her head towards him.

 _Because she hasn't made it for you yet._

"Yet?" she asked, feeling a fluttering of hope in her heart.

"Well obviously you haven't got amnesia, so my theory is-"

"You-you don't think I've got amnesia?"

They stopped walking. He threw his empty ice-cream pot in a nearby bin and turned to study her face.

"No," he said. "I don't think you've got amnesia."

"You believe me?" She hated how small her voice sounded.

"Of course I believe you, mom. I don't believe you'd lie," he said, completely earnestly. "I have always believed you."

Emma smiled. It was true. He was the only one who believed she could break the curse; he even put his own life on the line for her. She threw her ice-cream pot into the bin and pulled him in for another hug. It was strange, yes, but she'd get used to hugging him.

"Now all we need to do is figure out what actually happened," he said, when they broke apart.

They started their stroll towards the docks again. Emma slipped her hands in her pockets, feeling the bite of cold. She had to stop herself from smiling but it was unbelievable, the relief she felt. It consumed her.

Henry asked her to tell him everything, from the beginning. She told him about the portal and Cora; the way she'd smiled as she watched Emma fall through the portal, and suddenly she was here, in this strange Storybrooke, married to Captain Hook of all people.

He listened intently. Emma noticed how he still had that same intense expression he pulled when he was younger. It made her heart swell. He had become so handsome.

"Okay, so Cora did this," he said, nodding his head. "Makes sense, but I don't know how. Maybe she sent you to the future?"

"I don't know, kid. I really don't."

He paused, biting his bottom lip in thought. And then, "I know who can help. Belle!"

"Belle?"

"Sure. You've gotta know Gold skipped town years ago, right?" When Emma nodded, he continued, "So Belle's kinda the go-to for information. She can find out _anything,_ seriously. Last year there was some villain threatening a curse and we managed to stop him thanks to Belle. We couldn't have done it without her."

Emma considered this. "You honestly think she can help me?"

He nodded seriously. "We could go see her now?"

Emma's heart soared. "Yes!" she all but shouted. "I mean, yeah." The quicker she got this sorted out, the happier she would be. If there was anyone who could help her, she wanted to see them immediately.

"But before we go…"

She looked back up at him. "Yeah?"

"Grandma told me what happened last night with Killian." She couldn't quite read his expression, but she didn't like it. "About all the questions. She said you see him as a villain."

"Kid-"

"It's completely understandable," he said. She felt it again; the relief. "But-" He turned to her again and looked into her face, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I believe you. I trust you, mom; I have always trusted you. So you're gonna have to trust me."

"Okay?" she said as she looked back into his hazel eyes.

"Killian is not a bad person."

"Henry-"

"Trust me. Whoever you think he is, he's not that person anymore. I trust Killian completely. He's been there for us when no-one else has. This is strange for you, I know, but believe me when I say he's changed."

She sighed. What could she say to that? She should start with the truth.

"It's easy for you to say, but I don't know the man you describe."

"Then let him show you." He paused. "I'll talk to Killian. But if we're gonna find out what happened, we're all gonna have to trust each other. Okay?"

The truth was, she didn't _want_ to trust Killian. She heard so many warning bells in her head when she was faced with him. It was like what she knew of him and what she saw in front of her were completely conflicting, and it didn't make sense. It was the unknown and she hated the unknown.

She couldn't see herself marrying anyone. Not now, not ever. One-night stands were as far as she ever went, and she couldn't break that habit. How could she give herself to someone else so completely and so honestly? If someone had truly managed to knock her walls down, she was weak. What were they for in the first place?

"C'mon," Henry said. "Let's go and see Belle."

* * *

Gold's shop looked exactly as it always did, barring one detail. Instead of saying _Mr. Gold Pawnbroker,_ it said _Mrs. Gold Pawnbroker._ Henry pushed the door open and Emma followed behind.

The inside of the shop had changed almost completely. It wasn't full of clutter anymore, or things that Gold took from the people he had hurt as the Dark One. There weren't any creepy dolls, musty glass boxes and trinkets filling every nook and cranny. Instead, the whole shop had been cleaned out, the clutter cleaned away. The shop was made of mostly books, and other trinkets were placed neatly on shelves that had been pushed against the wall. It was clear the shop had been regularly dusted and polished; the floor actually twinkled.

"Belle?" Henry asked. "Are you in here?"

Emma heard the click of heels against the floor before anything, and then Belle emerged, slipping through the door that led to the backroom. She was carrying an armful of thick volumes with dusty jackets. Her eyes lit up when she saw who it was.

"Henry! Emma! I didn't hear you come in. I've been sorting out some of my books in the back. What can I do for you?"

Henry cast a look over at Emma as he said, "We're gonna need your help."

She advanced further into the room and dropped the books onto the counter. "My help?" Her eyes flickered between them. "With what?"

"I think my mom's better at explaining."

And so Emma explained, just as she did to Henry, what had happened down to the last detail. Belle nodded along as she listened intently, her expression serious. Emma was relieved; she half expected her to laugh, or stop her and tell them she'd already heard about Emma's "amnesia."

"I had no idea," she said instead. "You should've come to me straight away, Emma."

"I didn't think you'd believe me. No-one else does." She shrugged.

"It _is_ a strange case. But that's never stopped us before, has it?"

She made her way across the room, to one of the bookshelves .Her fingertips dusted the jackets, and she murmured to herself, words that neither Emma nor Henry could make out. She returned to the counter carrying four books and dropped them next to the other pile.

"I'll start with time travel," she said, as she opened one of the books. "I can get started straight away and hopefully I'll have answers for you by the end of the week. I _really_ wish you came to me sooner- we could have had it worked out by now. But better late than never."

The relief that swarmed Emma was powerful. She looked between Henry and Belle and embarrassingly, tears formed in her eyes. She looked towards the light, blinking them away. She was _finally_ getting somewhere. _Finally._

"See mom?" Henry said with a grin. "We'll have you sorted out in no time."

* * *

Emma and Henry left Belle's not long after. She promised to find Emma as soon as she found something out. Emma could have kissed her.

They parted ways back at her house. He told her he should probably get back, and he made her promise that she would come and meet Violet soon. She was willing to do anything that would get her out of the house, and she was curious to see the woman who had captured her son's heart. They parted with final hugs and a final, "It'll be okay, mom."

She descended the steps to her house. She should have felt elated that they were finally getting somewhere, and she did, but she also couldn't help but hear Henry's words about Hook echoing around her head. He trusted him. Despite all odds, he trusted him.

She opened the door and made her way into the hallway. No-one came to greet her as she removed her coat and hung it up on the peg. She was surprised. She half expected to see Lizzie hurtling through the hallways.

She made her way into the kitchen and dropped her keys on the worktop. There was no sign of life in there. She made her way into the living room to find Hook sat on the sofa, Lizzie curled up fast asleep next to him, her head on his lap. He stroked her hair with his hand. She was surprised to see that he wasn't wearing his hook. That, combined with the way he was looking at his daughter - like she was the sun - made him almost vulnerable. Human.

"Hey," she said softly.

He looked up at her, surprised, and pressed a finger to his lips. Then he returned to stroking his daughter's hair. Emma made her way further into the room and over to the sofa. She didn't know why she wasn't running, using Lizzie's sleeping as an excuse to escape this family for a few hours, but she drifted towards them like she couldn't help herself.

And with Henry's voice running through her head…

She gently moved Lizzie's legs so she could sit down, and placed them on her lap. She didn't even stir.

"How long has she been out?" she whispered.

"About an hour. I doubt she slept, not with Neal to keep her up all night. That lad is more trouble than he's worth." He shook his head, though his lips twitched in a slight smile. "It's a good thing she didn't have school today."

"She's beautiful," Emma said before she could stop herself.

"Aye."

"Is she really mine?"

His expression was guarded as he said, "Yes."

She didn't say anything else, though an apology danced on the tip of her tongue. She knew she should say sorry for what she said to her parents, and for what she did last night, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. She looked into his face, and it was so much older, so much wiser and kinder than it was back in the other Storybrooke, but it was also _his_ face. Hook's.

Yet, he had managed to be everything Hook wasn't. She had been out to prove he was a villain, but he had thwarted her at every turn. She didn't know what else to do. She didn't even know whether she _wanted_ to do anything else.

He didn't say anything either. She had hurt him. She had really, really hurt him.

 _Just say it,_ she said to herself. _Just say you're sorry._

But she couldn't.

"Anyway, I've got some, uh, things to do," she said. She stood, lifted Lizzie's feet, and placed them back down on the sofa.

He nodded. A muscle jumped in his jaw. She didn't say anything else, she just left; it was the easiest thing to do.

* * *

The next week went by much the same. Hook hardly spoke to her, and she hardly spoke to him. She could tell he was so hurt, or perhaps he was so angry with her, he couldn't even look at her, not even for Lizzie's sake. They exchanged forced conversation and pleasantries, but that was as far as it went. Every day Emma thought she should apologise, and every day she didn't. She couldn't.

She tried to amuse herself when Lizzie was at school by helping out David at the Sheriff's station. According to David, Hook usually helped out at the Sheriff's station, but he hadn't been there since Emma's amnesia. She gritted her teeth when David pointedly said the word "amnesia", but kept quiet, safe in the knowledge that she'd prove them all wrong when Belle got back to her.

The Sheriff's station was quiet. They spent the majority of the time with their feet up on the desk, eating doughnuts and drinking coffee. The only trips they made were to arrest a few people who'd been trying to cast dark curses.

"I've had enough curses to last me a lifetime," David commented.

Emma, having only experienced one curse, couldn't relate.

* * *

Belle didn't find her until it was nearing the end of the week. She caught her on the way back from the Sheriff's station, and Emma could tell by the shake of her head that it wasn't good news. Her heart sank.

"No luck?"

"I'm afraid not," she said. "I've looked through every book. I've tried time travel, portals, the works, but there's nothing like what you've got." Emma's disappointment must have shown on her face because she said, "Don't despair. Not yet, anyway. I have an idea."

"What is it?" Emma asked, feeling more disheartened by the second. Maybe she did have amnesia. Maybe she had been wrong this whole time. But then, why would she remember going through a portal?

"Not an it, but a who. I think…" She took in a deep breath. "I think it's time Rumple came back to town."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I had SO MUCH fun writing old!Henry. The next few chapters are super fun as well. Does she have amnesia? Doesn't she? Hmmm... I guess we'll see!**

 **Also, thank you so much for your support last chapter! I didn't know how that last chapter would be received, but I think more people liked it then hated it! XD So thank you very much! Your comments mean the world to me. 3**


	9. The Evil Queen

The Evil Queen

* * *

The next few days were torture as Emma waited for news from Belle. She peeked out the window at any sound she heard- be that the crunch of car wheels against tarmac, or a creek of a gate- and she rushed to the other side of the house every time the phone rang. But it always turned out to be nothing.

Belle said herself that it might take awhile to get hold of Gold. She'd kept in contact with him throughout the years, and they'd been on friendly-enough terms, but their conversations were often stunted and awkward.

But if Gold's cryptic messages were anything to go by, and luck was in their favour, they _might_ hear from him soon. According to her, his messages often contained hints at his longing to come back, but Belle usually shut him down and told him that this wasn't _his_ town, and he couldn't hurt anyone else here, not anymore. He would jump at the chance to return, even if he had to help Emma to do that.

When Emma asked whether that was manipulating him a little, Belle gave a nonchalant shrug.

"He's made his bed. I seem to remember he didn't have any problem manipulating people to get what he wanted." Though Emma couldn't help but notice something in her eyes. A flash of pain. A sparkle of longing.

Killian paid no mind to the way she kept jumping like a startled cat at every noise, or the way her head snapped to the window at every sound of a car door, or the sound of shoes against the pavement. He still wasn't on speaking terms with her, except for when Lizzie was around, of course. That was fine by her. Every time she looked at him, she felt a surge of guilt and she did not like it. She didn't like it one bit.

Perhaps his curiosity got the better of him because when she pulled back the curtain to stare out into the pouring rain for what must have been the seventh time, he cleared his throat. She turned to look at him. He was stood in the doorway, a mug of steaming tea in his hand.

"What are you looking for?" His tone was careful, like he was testing the waters.

"Belle," she said. "She might have a lead on why I don't remember you." There was no need to tell him about Gold.

"You went to Belle?"

"Henry went to Belle." The curtain slipped from her fingertips and she let it drop back into place. "She agreed to help us."

"Us?"

"Yeah."

His expression was unreadable. Then again, almost all of his expressions were unreadable. She didn't know how to read him _at all_ , even though she was usually good at working out people's emotions. It was another thing about their relationship that put her on edge; the fact that he knew everything about her, that he could read her as easily as an open book, and yet she knew nothing about him.

That was perhaps why she was so surprised when he said, "I might perhaps have a lead."

"You do?"

She'd thought that he'd decided against helping her, that he'd just told her he would to shut her up. He was well within his rights to after the way she'd treated him.

"Aye," he said.

He ventured further into the room and placed his mug of tea on the coffee table as he approached her cautiously. "I'll admit, I wasn't entirely sure how to address the situation but yesterday I had a breakthrough. I decided to go to the person I believe most qualified to help."

She found herself gravitating towards him. "Oh yeah? Who's that?"

"Regina."

She stared at him, blinking furiously, wondering if he'd actually said what she thought he said.

"Something wrong?"

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," she said. "Regina?"

"Yes, Regina." His lips twitched in the first smile she'd seen for the past week.

"No," she said.

"No?"

"No way." When Hook just raised his eyebrows, she said, "C'mon. You're talking about a woman whose _mother_ sent me through the portal. I am _not_ going to ask Regina for help. Belle's on the case. She'll work it out."

"Forgive me, Emma." He closed the distance between them. His voice was soft. "But wouldn't it be better to explore all our options?"

She folded her arms. "Not Regina."

"Regina is a changed woman."

"It seems everyone's changed in this Godforsaken town." _Even me,_ she thought, but she didn't say it.

"You need to have more faith in people, love."

She looked up into his face and she saw that smile again; the way his lips curled, the way his eyes lit up. She found herself looking into those eyes too long. She found herself doing that with the normal Hook often, but she'd look away quickly and pretend she didn't. Here, she couldn't look away.

And just like that, his soft smile was gone. He cleared his throat and took a step back from her, returning to his usual position of distance. Her chest almost ached for closeness, but she shut her feelings down straight away. There was no point accepting Killian when it wasn't real. Gold would come back into town and send her straight back to the real Storybrooke. She couldn't fall for him, knowing she would be forced to live with the normal- villain Hook.

 _Fall for him?_

 _Whoa, Emma. C'mon._

She was _not_ falling for him. Hell, she'd been determined to destroy him a few days ago. What had changed?

 _He had._

No. _No._

"So, would you like to come or not?" he asked, expression neutral. "We can't keep her waiting all day."

Emma bounced on her heels, placing her hands on her hips, biting her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was find Regina and explain the situation. It made her feel vulnerable and feeling vulnerable around the Evil Queen was a big no no.

"What's the matter, Swan?" The smirk was back. "Scared?"

"I can handle Regina."

"Prove it."

He had her and he knew it. She sighed, fell back on the balls of her feet, and grabbed her leather jacket from over the sofa.

"Alright," she said.

"Let's go. We can drop Lizzie off at your parents' on the way to Regina's."

Emma had the job of fitting Lizzie in her coat whilst Hook checked that all the windows were closed and locked. The last thing they wanted was a villain getting into the house. According to Hook, that had happened before. They'd taken the bastard out of course, but it still wasn't a nice feeling knowing a stranger had walked their hallways, had been so close to their daughter. Anything could have happened. Hook explained that villains weren't above taking children for leverage, that was for sure.

"We don't want a repeat of Pan."

"Of what?"

"Nevermind."

Emma watched as Lizzie placed an arm in the coat. She was twittering on about something or another, but Emma wasn't listening. She was too busy thinking about Belle, Gold and Regina. She was so close to getting answers. She could feel it. With all these helping hands, she was sure to return to the real Storybrooke in no time. She could almost _taste_ it.

"Are you listening to me?" came Lizzie's demanding voice.

"What?"

"You're not listening to me!"

She had managed to get her coat on. She was stood in front of Emma, hands on her hips, glaring at her between narrowed eyes.

"Of course I'm listening to you," she said.

"Oh yeah. What did I say?"

Emma sighed. She had to go ahead and inherit Emma's perception, didn't she?

"You and daddy don't listen to me any more," she said.

"Of course we do," Emma said, trying to keep her voice calm.

She could hear the alarm bells going off in her head. She didn't know what to say to Lizzie. Some things came naturally to her, but other things were such a mystery. How could she speak to a child so perceptive, so wonderful? It was like Henry all over again. She didn't miss a trick.

"Sure," she said.

When Emma tried to place a hand on her shoulder, she turned away. Emma felt a stab of cold run through her.

"Lizzie…" she said softly, but Lizzie didn't turn. She folded her arms and glared at the floor.

It was then that Hook decided to return. Emma heard the sound of his boots before she saw him. He was attaching his hook.

"All ready?" he asked.

"All ready," Emma confirmed, eyes on Lizzie.

* * *

By the time they got to Regina's, the rain had stopped, but the long pathway up to her house was slippy. She walked slowly, trailing behind Hook, eyes fixed on the house.

It was weird to think she was going to knock on the door, and Henry wouldn't be there any more. It was just Regina's house. It was strange going there without having Henry as a reason. She knew there would be no other circumstance that would make her set foot on Regina's premises.

Hook rang the doorbell. There was a sound of heels clicking on the other side of the door and then it opened.

Emma blinked. The woman in the doorway was not Regina - unless Regina was some sort of shapeshifter, and in this world, Emma wouldn't be surprised. She had long, curly red hair and a thin, pointed face. She wore a hugging green dress.

"Who the hell are you?" Emma blurted out before she could stop herself.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Rude."

British. She was british.

"It's a serious question."

The woman's eyes travelled to Hook. "Captain, I think your wife woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Uh- hello? I'd rather you didn't speak about me as if I'm not here." She scowled.

"I concur," Hook said, raising his eyebrows.

"Whatever." The woman rolled her eyes. "I take it you're here to see Regina? Unless, of course, there's anything I can help you with?"

"Sorry, love. It's definitely Regina we need to see."

"Then by all means, come on in."

She disappeared into the house. Hook took a step to follow, but Emma grabbed his arm sharper than she intended. He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. She dropped his arm at once.

"Who the hell was what?" she hissed.

"Ah, that's Zelena, Regina's sister."

"Regina has a sister?"

"Yes. She came over from Oz, caused quite a stir. If your memory doesn't come back, remind me to tell you the fun she had with us."

'The fun she had with us', should have caught Emma's attention, but she was too focused on the word 'Oz'. Oz? As in… Oz? Oz existed?

"She can't be from Oz. She's british."

Hook just chuckled and disappeared into the house.

She was _so_ out of her depth. Shaking her head, she followed Hook into the house.

It was just how she remembered. Regina hadn't redecorated. There was still the same theme of black, white and grey. She had near enough the same plant pots, the same expensive mirrors that probably cost more than Emma's entire apartment back in Boston.

She followed them into the office. Regina was sat, pouring over a spellbook. With a jolt, Emma realised that she'd changed. She should have known- everyone she'd met had changed- but Regina was someone she expected to remain young and immortal forever. Her hair was longer, curling past her shoulders. She was older; there were a few lines around her face, like there were around Emma's. She stood when they entered, showing off her slim-fitted coal dress.

"The Saviour's being insufferable today," Zelena said, by way of greeting. Emma couldn't help but watch her hips sway as she strutted.

"Yeah, it's okay," Regina said. "It's not her fault. She's lost her memories."

Oh right. So they might as well have just told the whole town. Emma has forgotten that there wasn't such a thing as privacy in this town.

"Regina," Emma said cooly.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Can we skip this, please? Sounds like you're having a hard time accepting that people can change. At least, that's what Mary Margaret said the other day during coffee."

Mary Margaret? Since when was Regina on speaking terms with her step-daughter? Since when were they on _coffee_ terms? Just when Emma thought she was getting a handle on this place, something else happened that baffled her into an oblivion.

 _Just send me home,_ she thought. _Just send me home._

"Look, I don't know what kind of woman you are now," she said. "All I _do_ know is that last time I spoke to you, you were working with Cora. I trust what I know."

She sighed. "My mother is long gone. I'll spare you the details." She made her way around to the other side of her desk and perched on the end, crossing one leg over the other. "So, do you want the bad news or the good news?"

"I thought you said there wasn't any good news?" Zelena asked, folding her arms.

"Okay, so there isn't any good news," Regina sighed.

Emma folded her arms, glaring at the floor. _Of course._ Of _course_ there wouldn't be any good news. Dammit. It was like one step forward and three steps back. She had hoped to see some breakthroughs.

"Then what is the bloody point?" Hook hissed.

Zelena rolled her eyes. "Don't get your knickers in a twist because of a bump in the road, Captain. As I recall, you've faced tougher problems than this and worked it out. Take my curse, for example. I didn't think anyone would beat that. And then there was that pesky problem when you became a Dark One…"

Emma's head snapped to Zelena. "What?" Hook? A Dark One?

"Oops. Have I said too much?" The way she bit her lip and the mysterious glint in her green eyes proved that _yes,_ she had said too much, and that was exactly what she intended.

"Why don't you keep your mouth shut?" Hook snapped.

And just like that, the glint was gone, and her eyes became slits. "Watch your tone with me. Unless you want to lose the other hand, that is."

"For God's sake, stop it, both of you," Regina hissed.

Hook turned to her, and his face was much more reminiscent of the old Hook. There was venom behind it. Regina didn't even bat an eyelid, she just sighed again, and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"So what _did_ you find?" Hook asked through gritted teeth. It was like every word caused him pain.

"Nothing. That's the thing, I didn't find anything. The only things I _could_ find were on amnesia." She threw a look at Emma. "But even that wasn't black and white. I don't know what happened here. It's frustrating me to no end. Usually I have _some_ idea."

Hook's fist clenched. "So that's it? We're out of options?"

"Not completely," Emma said. Everyone turned to look at her. "Belle's on the case. She hasn't found anything yet, but hopefully there will be a breakthrough. I mean, I'm optimistic." That was, if Gold could help. Though there was every chance he wouldn't.

"Why didn't you say?" Regina said. Her face broke into a slow, cat-like smile. "I might have to see if the bookworm needs a hand. With both of our heads, we should be able to work it out."

"Three heads," Zelena said. "I'll help."

 _You don't even know me,_ Emma thought. _Why would you help?_

That's if they really were helping her. Despite everyone's assurances, Emma wasn't completely convinced that Regina was a changed woman. She felt even more confused than ever as she watched this stranger and the Evil Queen decide to band together to help her.

"We better get started then," said Regina.

And that was that.

* * *

Hook and Emma picked Lizzie up on the way back from Regina's house. They took Emma's bug, and parked outside Mary Margaret's apartment. It was dark and it had been raining again. Water made the pavements sparkle in the lamplight.

The car grumbled to a stop as Emma yanked the key out of the ignition. Hook made to open the door but Emma put a hand on his arm.

"Wait."

He froze and looked at her. Though she felt his eyes on her, she couldn't look at him. She just kept her eyes on the sparkling pavement ahead. She knew what she needed to say, but she was having a hard time getting the words past her tongue.

"What's wrong?" he asked, softly.

She drew in a breath, eyes closing momentarily. When she finally turned to look at him, his eyes were shining. Or perhaps it was just the light.

"What is it?" he asked again.

"I want to thank you."

He shook his head, ripping his gaze from hers. "It's fine."

He went to open the car door again but Emma touched him gently.

"I mean it. Thank you, Killian."

At the mention of his name, he turned to her. He fixed her with a gaze so blue, her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't caught herself staring into the eyes of Captain Hook so unguarded before, yet here she was, and it was like he was looking into her very soul.

"We haven't found anything yet," he said, softly, eyes still on hers.

"No. But we will."

He looked down at her arm in his and then back up at her. He didn't speak for a moment, but his forehead creased like he was thinking, choosing his words carefully. When he eventually spoke, his voice still soft.

"Do you honestly believe that this isn't real? That we aren't married? That our lives are works of fiction?"

"I don't know what to believe." The truth of her words scared her.

"It's not that I don't want to believe you, Emma," he said. "I am willing to believe anything you tell me, and I'm willing to help you in any way I can. But what I feel-" He moved his hand up to her cheek. For once, she didn't move away. She let him touch her. "It can't be an illusion."

He stroked her cheek. She closed her eyes at the touch. The air was too thick, and she could feel his breathing mirroring hers. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest; she felt it in her throat, in her wrists. His touch was soft against her skin and it brought another feeling altogether; a sense of familiarity, as if he'd been touching her this way her whole life.

Her eyes snapped open. No, this was wrong. It was still Hook, and this _wasn't_ real.

She hadn't been feeling it her whole life.

They weren't really married.

She wasn't in love with him.

She moved her face away from his hand. She caught sight of his expression, hurt, confused and sad, all wrapped up into one, before she opened the door and escaped into the cool night air.

"We better get Lizzie," she said before she slammed the car door shut.

A few long seconds passed before he finally opened the car door and stepped out himself. She couldn't even look at him.

They made their way up to her parent's apartment side-by-side. She felt his eyes on her the whole way, burning into her skin, but she refused to look at him. By the time they got upstairs, she distracted herself with Lizzie, keeping her eyes on her instead of him.

She couldn't help but notice how Mary Margaret's eyes seemed to watch her, though not in the soft way. They were hard. Whenever she looked up, Mary Margaret looked away. It put Emma on edge, and she didn't like it one bit.

"C'mon kid, get your coat."

They all left together. Lizzie said goodbye to her Grandparents and Neal, kissing them each on the cheek. She even kissed Archie on the forehead and it was sweet, if a little sloppy.

They made their way down the stairs together and out into the street. They'd only just stepped out onto the pavement when they heard a shout from behind them.

"Emma!"

Mary Margaret ran towards them, David following closely behind. Emma stopped in her tracks and all three of them turned to look at her. Her dress was rippling in the wind.

"Yeah?"

"Can I… talk to you?" Her eyes flickered to Hook. "Alone?"

Emma frowned. "Sure. Hook, take Lizzie to the car."

He gave them a concerned look as he took Lizzie's hand with a soft, "C'mon, love."

Mary Margaret waited until they were out of earshot before she spoke. "What are you doing, Emma?"

Emma frowned even more. "What do you mean, what am I doing?"

"Going to see Regina?"

"What about me going to see Regina?"

She shared a look with David. Emma knew at once they'd been talking about her. "I mean, do you think that's wise?"

"What do you mean? I thought you'd be happy?"

And she _did_ think her mother would be happy. She was finally doing something; she was taking the initiative. Belle and Regina were the first step to finding out what really happened. She could find a way to fix it.

"Quite frankly, I'm not."

"Snow-" David reached out to take her arm but she snatched it away.

"No, David. She needs to know." Mary Margaret turned back to Emma, and her face was so uncharacteristically full of fury, it made Emma speechless. "Lizzie came to me."

"What?"

"She told me that she didn't know what was going on with you and Killian. She _cried._ She _just_ wants her parents back, but they're too wrapped up in themselves to take notice of her."

The guilt that hit Emma felt like a brick wall, but she did her best to conceal it. It must have shown on her face because Mary Margaret used that as an opening.

"How do you think she _feels_ about this? She feels neglected. You are neglecting her and it's selfish."

"You _really_ think you're qualified to offer me advice on how to raise my kid!" she said. "Really? You sent me through a wardrobe for twenty-eight years and you accuse _me_ of neglect?"

"Emma!" David shouted. "We did that to give you your best chance."

"And you _really_ think growing up without parents was a good thing for me? You abandoned me."

"You know why," he said.

"Do I?"

She couldn't accept their reasoning, as much as she tried. Okay, so she was supposed to break a curse, but by doing so she ended up miserable. They put her through that wardrobe like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"That's neither here nor there," Mary Margaret said, though her face was flushed. "What's important is Lizzie. She needs you. You just need to focus on remembering who you are, that's all."

" _That's not what's wrong with me,"_ she shouted. "I haven't forgotten. I don't have amnesia. Why can't you just accept that something is seriously wrong and that I don't belong here?"

"Because we've worked too hard to have our happiness destroyed."

"Your happiness? What about _my_ happiness? How would you feel if I didn't believe you? Why are you so hellbent on proving I didn't go through a portal."

"Because we fought Cora!" Snow shouted. "We fought her and we defeated her and there was no portal, okay?"

"But there was!"

They were truly yelling at each other, David watching helplessly from the sidelines.

"It doesn't make _sense!_ Time portals don't work like that. You have amnesia. Nothing else makes sense."

"Actually, I think you'll find it makes perfect sense," came an altogether different voice from behind them. They turned to see Gold walking towards them in a suit. "Mrs. Jones doesn't have amnesia at all."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I hoped you liked this one! You'll love the next one ;)**


	10. Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror

* * *

She didn't have amnesia.

 _She didn't have amnesia._

There was hope. She wasn't going insane. Gold would be able to fix this; he'd provide some answers. For the first time in forever, she was actually pleased to see his snivelling face.

The same couldn't be said for everyone else, who all stared at him, wearing identical expressions of shock, their mouths slightly ajar. Whatever qualms Mary Margaret had with Emma were forgotten in her her surprise. She vaguely resembled a bird with bulging eyes and an open beak. The scene would be funny if the buzz of anger wasn't still humming through Emma's veins, singing in her blood.

Even Hook got out the car with a, "Bloody crocodile. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I am here because I was invited," he spat through his teeth, without sparing a glance in Hook's direction.

For a moment Emma's heart thudded wildly in her chest as she watched them. She hadn't even considered the possibility of what would happen if Hook was reunited with his crocodile, despite the many attempts on his life back in the real Storybrooke. She half expected Hook to jump Gold right there and then. He'd wasted no time in getting his revenge in Storybrooke.

But she saw that he didn't move closer, and it was because he didn't have any desire to. She didn't have to slap on her Sheriff badge and cart him off, not just for Gold's safety, but for his too. He simply watched Gold, mirroring the shock on everyone's faces. There wasn't any anger on his face, no heat in his eyes, just a mild expression of disgust.

She tilted her head. How… strange.

"Who invited you?" David snapped.

"I did," came Belle's voice. She stepped into view, hands clasped in front of her, biting her lip sheepishly. "I thought he would be the best person to contact. He'd help us the most." Everyone opened their mouths to argue at the same time, but Belle held up a hand. "You can't deny that he's helped us in the past. We wouldn't have been able to get through half the problems we did without him."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" David said. "What's the cost this time."

"No cost." Her eyes flickered over to Gold. "He'll be on his best behaviour, I promise you. He knows what will happen if he isn't." Her last words were said with conviction and a sure nod of her head. Emma trusted her. She trusted that she would have Gold under control if he decided to step out of line.

"Now that's settled," Gold said. "Mrs. Jones has a problem. I think it's time to take this back to my shop."

" _My shop,_ " Belle said. She gave him one long look before she headed in the direction of the shop, her heels clicking on the concrete. Emma suppressed a smile.

* * *

Later, they stood around the counter in the middle of Belle's shop. Books littered the surface— Belle had been hard at work. She rushed to clear them up, flipping the pages closed, stacking them into one neat pile.

Regina and Henry were there. Emma had contacted Henry as soon as Gold had turned up, and Henry had texted Regina. Leroy was back at her parents' apartment, looking after the kids. It was a joint decision that none of the children should be savvy to tonight's events, at least not yet. Especially not with Lizzie being as fragile as she was today.

Emma waited for Gold to speak. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she wiped her palms on her jeans. She couldn't help the feeling of elation rising through her veins. She was about to get answers. _She didn't have amnesia._

Gold didn't speak. It was like he was weighing up his words. In his hands he held a huge, leather-bound spell book and he skimmed over the lines, using a finger. He hadn't aged a day, Emma realised as she watched him. He looked exactly the same.

"So you don't think I have amnesia, then?" she said, when the silence became too much to bear.

He looked up, sighed softly, and placed the book on the counter. "No, I don't. Belle has already kindly explained the situation. She said you went through a portal?"

"Yes. Cora pushed me."

"I see."

"But- but that _can't_ be true," Mary Margaret said. Emma looked sharply over at her. She avoided her eyes. "She can't have fallen through a portal."

"And why not?" he asked.

"Because portals don't work like that. And we would _know,_ okay. We'd know if Cora sent Emma through a portal."

"I'm afraid that's not entirely true." Gold sighed. "If Cora wanted Emma gone, she wouldn't have told you. She wouldn't want you to stop her. It's perfectly reasonable that Cora would send Emma through a portal— she was her biggest threat."

"But it _still_ doesn't make sense," Mary Margaret said. She threw her hands up into the air. "Why would she send her _here?_ Why would she do that?"

"I assure you, she didn't intend to."

Emma frowned. She didn't intend to? It seemed like the perfect thing to do. By sending Emma to this made up, twisted version of reality, she had not only gotten rid of Emma, but had drove her insane.

Well, not yet. But it was only a matter of time.

"Then what the bloody hell did she intend to do?" Hook hissed out. Again, Emma found herself watching him, waiting for him to pounce on Gold, but no pouncing came.

"She intended to send you to a far away realm, away from everyone. Perhaps the Enchanted Forest or Oz. Either way, she wanted you gone. But something happened that she couldn't foresee."

"What was that?" Emma asked, wishing he'd just get on with it. She'd had enough cryptic comments to last her a lifetime.

"A very rare, very uncertain branch of magic happened."

Emma nodded. "She managed to create a whole new world." It was amazing, that was for sure. She wondered if everyone would feel a little pointless knowing that they weren't real.

"Wrong again," he said. He paused and they watched, waiting for his answer. He took a deep, deep breath. "She sent you to the future."

Emma's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, _what?_ "

He smirked. "What's the matter? Was that not the answer you were looking for?"

Emma didn't know what to say. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She shook her head. "That's not possible."

"I think you'll find it is."

She folded her arms. "So it's an alternative future, then. One of many possible futures."

"Nope."

Emma looked around helplessly at all the faces peering at her. Her parents, Regina, _Henry._ Finally, Hook. If all this was true… then she was actually married to him. She hadn't anticipated that.

"But that doesn't make sense," Regina said and Emma breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally, someone speaking some sense. "Portals don't _go_ to the future. Even if they did, Emma would be in her own body. There would be two Emmas."

Gold shook his head. He was wearing that strange twisted smile. "Like I have already mentioned, Miss Mills, this is a very _rare_ , complex magic, something only an experienced sorcerer could understand." Regina opened her mouth to argue but Gold held up a hand. Amidst all her confusion and over the sound of her beating heart, Emma was still able to think _same old Gold._ "No, there are not two Emmas."

"What happened then?" Hook snarled. "Get on with it."

Gold sighed like the last thing he wanted to do was give them an explanation. He braced both hands on the counter and looked around into all of their faces.

"Make no mistake, Cora had intended to send you far away. If there's one thing she doesn't like, it's people getting in her way, and you, Mrs. Jones, were certainly getting in her way." He paused. "However, at the same time you were leaving the Sheriff station, so was your future self. You happened to be in the exact same place at the exact same time, which created— let us call it an imaginary string— and instead of being taken away to a different place, you were taken to the future. Tell me, what were you doing before you saw Cora?"

"I was talking to… Hook," she said, dumbfounded.

Gold gave a humorless smile. "There we go. Hook was on your mind. You were thinking about him, so that's where the portal took you— straight to where your relationship is happy and healthy. So you swapped bodies."

"Good God," Hook breathed out. Despite herself, she looked at him. "You were right."

 _So were you_ , Emma thought with a flip of the stomach. It wasn't a lie. She was married. Hook was her husband.

"So what happens now, then?" Henry asked. He folded his arms. "I mean, obviously she can't stay here. We need to get her home. You _can_ get her home, can't you?"

"Perhaps."

"What do you mean, "perhaps"?" Belle snapped. Emma looked over at her, eyebrows flying up. She had never heard Belle snap at him. "You said you would help, or no deal. You don't come back."

"It's not as simple as that. I don't know if there's even a way."

"Then find a way."

Gold bowed his head. "I will do my best. But I need time." His eyes flew up to Emma's face. "Maybe days, maybe weeks."

"Just get me back," she said.

He nodded. "Like I said, I'll do my best. In the meantime, I need to see if I can breakthrough to the past— or the present, in your case. There will be another Emma wandering aimlessly, wondering what on earth is going on. We need to contact her before she ruins anything."

"And how long will that take?" Emma asked.

"Maybe a day at most. I can work through the night and by tomorrow morning, I should have contact. In the meantime, I expect you to get some rest, Mrs Jones. You have a lot to sleep on."

* * *

Ten minutes later they were traipsing out the door. Emma hardly noticed she was moving. Her legs didn't feel real. None of her felt real. It was like she was walking in a daze and all she could think was _I don't have amnesia_.

Someone touched her arm. "Emma—" It was her mother. Her voice was soft. Tentative.

Emma whirled around and was faced with her mother's dark doe-eyes against a pale face. She felt nothing but anger.

"Save it," she said.

She marched off to the car where Hook was. Her husband. God, that was weird. She was going to have to get used to it— or not, depending on how quick Gold could get her back to the present.

 _I'm married to Hook. Captain Hook._

The car ride home was mostly silent. Emma could hardly look at him, not with the new found knowledge pumping through her brain. She could feel the electricity pulsating all over. She ran her hands against the denim of her jeans.

When they came to a stop outside her parents apartment, Emma asked Hook to get Lizzie, quietly adding that she wasn't sure she could face her parents again. Not just yet. He didn't even hesitate.

When he returned with Lizzie, she felt a wave of guilt, so strong, it made her feel nauseous. Lizzie's face was serious, her eyes big and sad. Emma tried to look into those eyes, but Lizzie didn't look at her. She just curled up in the back seat. The shame almost consumed her. She would have never treated Henry the way she had treated Lizzie.

When they got into the house— the house that somehow felt different now that she knew the truth— Lizzie flew across the hall. She was halfway up the stairs when Emma said, "Kid, come here."

Lizzie's steps were reluctant but she dragged herself over in front of Emma. Emma took her hands and knelt down so she matched her height. She looked up into her big sad, and— with another wave of shame— tearful eyes.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Lizzie shook her head. Emma sighed. She was hoping the kid would be honest with her and make this as painless as possible.

"Lizzie, I'm sorry." She was surprised by how easy it was to get the words out.

"Why?" She asked, voice small.

"I haven't been… great recently. I should have listened to you when you tried to tell me what was wrong, but I didn't." She glanced up to see Hook stood near the kitchen table, watching them. She moved her eyes back to Lizzie. "I'm so sorry I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me."

"I just don't know what's going on with you and daddy."

Emma watched as those great big eyes welled, blinked, and the tears dripped down her face. She released Lizzie's hands to catch the tears with her fingertips. Something encased itself around Emma's heart, making it heavy, making it weigh down her chest.

"Me and daddy are fine," Emma said. "I promise you. Something _has_ been going on, but it's because of me, not because of him. He's been helping me."

"Have you been sad?"

Emma shook her head. "Not exactly. Just not myself. Daddy's been helping me feel better."

"Do you feel better now?" Her voice was a mumble.

Emma mustered her best smile. She was surprised to feel her own tears on her cheek. "Much."

"And you're not gonna fight anymore?"

She shook her head. "No, not anymore. Everything is going to be okay."

"You promise?"

Emma took her hands again. "I promise." She gave a gentle squeeze. "Now how about you go and wash and get in your pyjamas? And when you come down, we can make hot cocoa with cinnamon and cookies."

Lizzie's eyes flew to the clock. "But it's past 10. I should be in bed."

"Why don't we stay up later tonight?" Emma squeezed her hands softly.

Lizzie bit her lip and nodded. A small smile curled her lips. She nodded again and Emma released her hands, watching as she ran off up the stairs, her curls bouncing behind her. Slowly but surely, Emma's chest began to untighten. She returned to her feet and locked eyes with Hook from across the room.

"That was good of you, Swan." He spoke softly. He didn't move. It seemed like he was putting as much distance between them as possible. That's when Emma realised what she had to say.

"Look, I'm sorry," she said. Again, she was surprised how easy the words came. Sure, her hands were on her hips and she wasn't looking at him, but it was a start. "For what I… did." She was referring to the other night when she'd tried to seduce him, but it could have been anything. It could have been all the questions she asked him, or the way she had brushed Lizzie and her feelings under the carpet. "It wasn't right."

He took a step forward. His face was half in the shadows, and she couldn't quite make out his expression. She watched as he took slow steps, moving carefully until he was right in front of her and she _could_ make out his face. It was sombre. There was shame in his eyes— she recognised it because it was the same shame reflected in her own.

"It is I who is sorry," he half-whispered. Unlike Emma, he didn't avoid her eyes but looked right into them. Sincere. "I didn't believe you. You told me— you told me so many times— but I still didn't believe you. After all we've been through— after—" He shook his head. "I listened to your parents, when I should have been listening to _you._ "

"You couldn't know." She had surprised herself again. Why wasn't she accepting his apology with a curt nod? She should move on now and go back to ignoring him. That's the way it should be until Gold found a way to return her to the real— _present_ — Storybrooke.

"I should have known."

"How could you?"

"I should have listened."

"It's not as easy as that."

They stared at each other. Something passed between them. The air was thick with electricity. Emma knew she should have taken a step back but she didn't. She couldn't. She kept her eyes on his, watching the way they crinkled at the corners when he gave a sad, soft smile. So unlike a villain.

God, she wished she didn't feel like this. She didn't know _how_ to feel. One thing she was sure about. She would never have married him if she thought he wasn't a changed man. Which led her to the second thing she was starting to be sure about.

He had definitely changed.

* * *

Emma didn't realise the full truth of how much he'd grown as a person until the next day, when Belle woke them up at seven in the morning with a constant knocking on the door.

Hook got there first. She had only just peeked out the door when she felt him whip past her, a breeze following him with a quick, "I'll get it." He nipped down the stairs and to the front door. Emma watched him go. She padded, barefoot, to the landing where she had a full view of the front door, pulling her dressing gown tightly around her.

"Finally!" Belle said. "I thought you'd never answer! You have to come quick. It's Rumple— he's managed to get a connection to Storybrooke, but you have to hurry _now._ It won't last for long. I'll look after Lizzie - _Go!_ "

…

After a scuffle of tugging clothes on and brushing teeth, Emma and Hook managed to get to Gold's shop. They didn't bother knocking, the bell would be enough to alert Gold.

He was stood in front of a giant mirror, which he must have pulled from the back room, murmuring things, moving his dagger over it. If Emma wasn't so excited, she would have been creeped out. The Sheriff's station was reflected in it and Emma could make out the desk with the computer on, a couple of empty coffee cups, and an empty cell.

"Is that—" she began.

"Your Storybrooke, yes," he murmured. "I'm trying to contact you— her— the other Emma. I saw her pass through here once, but it's a weak connection. She must not have noticed. The connection is stronger now."

"What happens now, then?" Hook asked.

"It's a waiting game."

All three of them kept their eyes fixed on the mirror, waiting for something to happen.

"I thought we were supposed to come as quickly as possible?" Emma asked, hands on her hip.

"You were. I didn't want to ruin our chances of getting through."

For a while, nothing happened and Emma found herself wondering why she was faced with an empty cell. Shouldn't Hook— the normal Hook— be there? Where was he? Had he managed to escape _already?_ Unless her older self let him out… If she believed him to be her husband, she might have. She might not have realised he was evil. Who knows what evil things he could be out there doing, or what information he could have passed onto Cora. Maybe it was Cora who broke him out.

Another while of waiting. Emma found a chair to collapse into after her legs started to ache from standing in the same position. She leant her arm on the counter, cheek in her hands as she watched.

Half an hour passed. Her eyes drifted out of focus as she watched the mirror.

Then, came the unmistakeable sound of whistling. Emma sat up in her seat. Out the corner of her eye, she could see Hook inch closer, his eyes fixed on the mirror. Even Gold seemed to hold his breath in anticipation.

Then David walked into view and Emma was struck by how young he seemed. She'd gotten used to seeing the older version of him, the one with lines around his face. This David seemed so… she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

David crossed the room and picked up the empty coffee cups from the desk. He threw them into the trash. He turned to leave the room but he'd only just reached the door when he paused in his footing and turned, looking directly at the mirror.

Emma let out a silent gasp. She could feel the tension coming in waves off Hook as he took a step forward, eyes on the mirror.

David too took slow steps towards the mirror, eyes narrowed, lines appearing around his eyes. Emma held her breath. There was a pause.

One.

Two.

"Looking good, my man," David said. It took a second for the words to catch up and for Emma to realise he was talking to himself.

He swiped a strand of hair back into place, gave himself one last smile and disappeared out the room.

"Enchanted glass," Gold murmured. "No one can see us unless we want to be seen."

"So when Emma—" Hook began, but his words were cut off by a figure walking into the room.

Herself. Emma. She was younger, with smooth skin untouched by age and hair curling halfway down her back. The sight of her sent Emma's heart pounding— she was so used to looking at her older self in the mirror, she forgot _this_ is what she looked like.

"Emma," Hook breathed. He directed a sharp look at Gold. "She can't see us?"

"Not yet. Call her."

"What?"

"You heard me, pirate. Call her to you. Let her know we're there."

Emma turned to Hook and found him staring back at her. He was waiting for her permission. She gave one quick nod, well aware of how strange things were about to get.

He braced his hands on the desk, almost for support.

"Emma," he said.

There was no answer. She didn't even look in their direction. She was too busy going through a few papers on the desk, humming to herself. Now there was an odd sight. Emma never hummed to herself. She never looked so… happy.

"Try again," Gold demanded.

Killian gave him a look before gazing into the mirror once more.

"Emma," he tried again.

That did something. Emma whipped her head around, forehead puckering. She was searching for the sound.

"Emma, it's me. It's Killian."

"Killian?" she said softly.

Her eyes roamed every inch of the room, looking for where his voice could be coming from. Finally, they rested on the mirror. She rushed forward.

"Are you coming from here?"

" _Yes!_ "

Her face broke out into a smile, tears filling her eyes. "I can't see you. Why can't I see you?"

"I don't know, love," Hook said gently before snapping to Gold. "Fix it."

Gold held up his dagger and muttered some incantation over the glass that Emma didn't care for, or didn't listen to. She was too busy watching herself in the mirror, seeing her eyes wander frantically over. And then, her eyes locked on Hook.

There was a pause. A breath. It was excruciating. And then:

"I can see you," she said. "Killian, I can see you."

The desperation in the other Emma's voice made her recoil. She hated seeing herself so pathetic. That was until she heard the same desperation in Killian's voice when he said, "I can see you too. Bloody hell, Emma. How did this happen?"

"I don't know. I don't know what happened. I just woke up and found myself lying on the floor— and everything was the same but different. You were in a cell. It didn't take me long to work out I'd gone to the past, especially when I spotted Cora across the street. You should have seen her expression. She looked like she was gonna flay me." Emma was just thinking she'd never heard herself talk as much in her life when her own eyes fell on her. "Holy crap. That's me."

"Yes," Gold said. "This is you from the past. You swapped bodies."

"What the hell are you doing back in town?" Other Emma snarled.

"I, believe it or not Mrs. Jones, am helping."

"It's true," Hook said. "He's helping. Don't worry, Belle with banish him straight back out of town if he causes any trouble."

"Good."

"But right now," Gold continued between gritted teeth. "You need me, whether you'd like to admit it or not. Only I have the explanations, and magic, you need. Without me, you'll be stuck."

"Okay, I'll bite. What the hell happened?"

Emma listened as Gold filled other Emma in on how she ended up through a portal, about the very particular brand of magic created, and how they still somehow managed to swap bodies. Other Emma listened intently, nodding along, frowning in concentration.

Emma couldn't keep her eyes off herself. She was stunned by her own green eyes, her own animated face. It was different than looking in a mirror.

"Great. So how do I get back?"

"Alas, I am unsure," Gold said. "I have theories, of course, but I always have theories. There is only one way to know for sure and that is to test them all out, which is what I plan to do. Sit tight, Mrs. Jones. You might be there months."

" _Months?"_ Other Emma said. "You're kidding, right?"

"Unfortunately not. The amount of magic we're using to reach you is indescribable. It will take a lot more to bring you back."

"So I'm stuck?" Both Emmas said at the same time. They looked at each other, identical expressions of surprise on their faces.

"No, love... _Loves,"_ Killian said, frowning, looking between them. "Just marooned."

"And that's so much better?" The other Emma said. It took Emma a second to realise that the other Emma was teasing. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder, her eyes directly on Hook's. "How am I supposed to stay here for _months_ without you?"

 _Without you._

"Don't worry. As I take it, there's a dashing rapscallion version of me somewhere in that town, and he is in need of saving."

"I saw him earlier," she said. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"I wouldn't be so sure. You've held his heart longer than you know."

" _Oh my God,_ " Emma said before she could stop herself.

She brought her hands up to her face. They felt ice cold against her warm skin. Was she blushing? Even this casual flirting felt a little too intimate. It was even worse that she was watching herself flirt. Everyone turned to her.

"And what about you?" Hook asked the other Emma, his eyes darting to Emma. "How long have I held _your_ heart?"

Other Emma surveyed her, watching her with one eyebrow raised. Her lips curled into a slow, knowing smile and Emma _hated_ it. Being figured out by herself was worse than being figured out by anyone else. She felt betrayed.

But other Emma didn't answer Hook's question. She merely continued to watch Emma, surveying her as if she was x-raying her.

"This must be _really_ weird for you," she finally said.

"You have no idea."

"Which is why," Gold began, again through his teeth. "We need to work out a plan, as quickly as we can. I need to be able to contact you when I have new information. We need to make a date."

Other Emma nodded. "Okay."

"This time in two weeks I need you to be by this mirror, whatever the cost. Do not let anyone else get next to this mirror. Make sure you are alone— other people knowing might… complicate things. Do you understand me?"

"I understand."

"I'll leave you to have a… moment alone then. Everyone deserves their privacy. Let me know when you're done."

Without another word, or a glance in their direction, he turned and headed out the door. Emma heard the sound of the bell signifying his exit before she whipped her head back around to other Emma. Her focus was on Hook, and he was looking— no _gazing_ — back at her, slowly inching closer to the mirror. Emma wondered if she should quietly make her exit, but at the same time, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the exchange in front of her.

"You look so young," Hook said. "It reminds of when we first met."

 _When we met?_ When they met Hook was a villain, for God's sake. She chained him to a tree and she would have gladly left him to rot if he hadn't promised to help them.

"Trust me, I've got _nothing_ on you. You haven't worn that coat for _years_. I forgot what you looked like in it."

"I doubt I could wear it these days. It's too heavy for me."

"We might have to put that to the test when I get back."

Emma didn't know whether to gag, laugh, or run from the room. Hook must have sensed her discomfort for he looked at her, a small, apologetic smile on his face. When he turned back to the other Emma, his face was soft.

"Alas, I don't know when that will be. Or if it _will_ be."

"Hey, don't talk like that. We've found answers to problems that didn't have any answers before, we can do it again. I'll see what I can do my end. I won't mess with anything, don't worry, but I can't sit here and do nothing. I might raid Gold's bookshelves— it's still his shop here. I'd ask Regina, but she's working for Cora. I kinda forgot she worked with Cora for a while."

"We all have our demons."

"You more than others, it seems. I forgot how much everyone changed."

Hook's eyes flickered over to Emma again, before going back to other Emma. He lowered his voice. "Not everyone can accept that."

Other Emma's eyes crossed the room to where Emma stood, the same x-raying feeling going through her.

"Hook?" she asked. "Can Emma and I have a moment?"

"Sure thing, love."

They both watched as he disappeared into the back of the shop, the curtain flapping closed behind him.

"You don't believe he's changed?" Other Emma asked as soon as he was gone.

She set her jaw. "No." The lie was almost impossible to get out.

Other Emma smiled. "You're lying."

"No, I—"

"Don't think you can trick me. I'm you, just better and smarter. I have years on you. But more importantly, I've opened my heart up to love."

Emma scoffed. "I have all the love I need."

Her eyes were sad. "No you don't. But you will."

Emma said nothing. She just stared at this other, strange version of her, with sullen eyes and folded arms. A battle stance. She hadn't realised she'd need her armour up against herself most of all, but this woman knew every part of her. She knew every inch of her heart.

"He's not the man you think he is," she said, softly. "I mean, you're already beginning to realise it, but it's true. He's loyal and he's kind. He's protected me— us— when no-one else has. He's gone to the end of the world for us, and he would do it again. I've been to hell for him."

She wanted to tell her that she didn't care for her stupid metaphors, but she kept her mouth closed. When had she started speaking in metaphors? She knew she was just being defensive— a typical Emma feeling, but she couldn't stop it. For some reason, she couldn't be civil to herself.

When the connection started to go bad, Hook returned to the room to say his farewells. Emma asked about Lizzie— begged to see her— but Hook told her they couldn't do that. He explained that he hadn't told her the truth, and maybe it was best not to.

"You're right," other Emma said. "For now, at least. We'll tell her eventually, but she's so young."

When it was time to say their goodbyes, Emma looked directly at Emma and said, "Don't worry. We'll have swapped back in no time. In the meantime, try to go easy on him."

"I will."

"I don't want you to go," Hook said. If he was any closer to the mirror, he'd had gone through it. He touched the rim, but that was the closest he could get.

"We'll speak soon. Give Lizzie a hug from me." Just when Emma thought that would be the end of that, "I love you."

Hearing the words from her own mouth directed at Captain Hook should have been enough to put her on edge, but that wasn't what sent a jolt straight to her stomach. It was his words.

"I love you too, Emma."

She cursed her superpower more than anything else that day because she knew, when the words left their mouths, they meant it. And it terrified her.

The connection ended.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I reeeeeeeeeeeally enjoyed writing this chapter. It was so much fun. Let me know what you think?**


	11. New Eyes

**New Eyes**

* * *

The phone rang out clear and loud in the house, echoing off every wall and every floor. Emma was only just walking into the kitchen when she heard it and stopped in her tracks. She couldn't suppress a sigh. This was the third time it had rang this morning and she knew exactly who it was.

"You're not gonna get that?" Lizzie asked, as she brushed by Emma's legs and ran into the kitchen. She moved so fast she was like a blur and Emma didn't quite register what was happening until she jumped up onto one of the kitchen chairs.

"Nope."

Then the ringing stopped, replaced with a beep.

 _You have reached the Swan-Jones household,_ Killian's voice rang out. _Clearly, we are unable to come to the phone right now. Leave us a message and we'll get back to you._

There was a pause and then:

'Emma, it's me. Again," Mary Margaret said. "Look, I'm just calling to say I think it would be best to meet up. This is something we can't really do on the phone." Then her voice became softer, almost broken. "We are _so_ sorry we didn't believe you. Please, don't shut us out. Let us in."

Emma scoffed.

"Don't shut them out!" Lizzie cried. "Let them back in!"

"I'm not shutting them out. Just… I just need time."

"Why?"

"Sometimes people need time."

Lizzie looked at her with those big, blue eyes. "... Why?"

She giggled at the look Emma gave her.

"Shouldn't you be doing homework or something?" Emma said, folding her arms, giving her a stern look. "Or have you finished?" She raised an eyebrow.

Lizzie shook her head vigorously. "I didn't finish but I had to stop."

"Huh. How come?"

"Because it's crazy dance time."

Emma stared at her. Crazy what time? Dance? What kind of insane ritual was 'crazy dance time'? Without any explanation, Lizzie grabbed her colouring book from the kitchen table and pulled it towards her. Emma waited to see if Lizzie would say anything else on the subject, but she just picked up a crayon and began to scribble a mass of dark green hair in one of the princesses in the book. Her own hair fell like a dark curtain around her, her chin jutted out in thought.

That was when the phone rang again. Emma groaned, burying her face in her hands, listening as Killian's message played out again.

"Uh, hey Emma. It's, uh, me…" David said, his voice hesitant. Emma marched across the room. "I'm just ringing to—" She pulled the phone out of the wall, cutting off whatever stupid apology speech he was about to make.

"There," she sighed. Placing her hands on her hips, she swivelled to face Lizzie.

"You can't keep avoiding them, Swan," came a voice from behind her and a thrill ran through her, shocking her. It wasn't a thrill of disgust, either. She turned and saw him walking towards her. "Especially because you'll have to see them soon."

"I have to?" She raised her eyebrows. "Who said that?"

"Henry." He made his way over to her with cautious steps. Now he knew she was from the past, he was being even more cautious with her. "Your boy rang this morning. We've been invited for dinner next week, if you'll be so inclined." Then he lowered his voice to a whisper, moving his lips to her ear. "He thinks it would be a good time for you to finally meet Violet."

"What are you whispering about?" Lizzie demanded, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "Are you talking about adult stuff again?"

"What?" Emma laughed.

"You're _always_ whispering about adult stuff," she said, matter-of-factly, turning back to her colouring. Emma could make out her scribbling a princess's face a neon green. "I wanna know the adult stuff."

"I'm pretty sure you can't know the adult stuff until you're an… adult," Emma said, smiling. "It kinda defeats the purpose otherwise."

"You're always doing adult stuff." Then she tutted loudly. "I wanna be an adult. Then I can know the adult stuff. And I can stay up until late like you do."

"Oh, love," Killian sighed. "We don't stay up _that_ late." He exchanged a look with Emma, rolling his eyes.

"You just pretend to go to sleep. Then you stay up and make weird noises."

" _What?"_ Emma said.

Killian coughed loudly. "Alright, that's enough of that." He swept her off the chair with one arm and she squealed and giggled, kicking her legs about.

"No, daddy, no!" She shrieked, reaching forward with her arms. "I need to finish my colouring!"

"Noooo you don't."

"I do! I do!" She kicked her legs again and then giggled. "Let me go!"

"But then, my love, how on earth shall we do crazy dance time?"

 _That again!_ Crazy dance time! What was it? She tried to catch Killian's eye, but he was too busy setting a thrashing Lizzie on her feet. As soon as her toes touched the ground, she turned to him, colouring abandoned.

"Crazy dance time!" she all but shouted. She bounced up and down, clapping her hands together. "Yay! Yay! Yay!"

Killian jumped up and down with her. All Emma could do was watch the whole scene unfold, head tilted, her mouth slightly open. She hadn't seen Killian like this before; he'd been his usual brooding self since she'd arrived. But ever since he found out Emma was not in fact _his_ Emma, but Emma from the past, he'd mellowed a little. He was smiling at her a lot more, that was for sure.

"I'll get the music." Then he crouched down to her level. "But you know…" he said softly. Lizzie hung on his every word, watching him with those big, round eyes.

"Yeah?" she breathed.

"All great dancers are in need of an audience."

Her eyes widened even more. "But… we've never danced in front of an audience before!"

"Alas, we have not. So we need the best audience available… Do you know what I'm saying?"

She nodded slowly, like she understood every word that left his lips. _That makes one of us,_ Emma thought. She was becoming more confused by the second.

"Mr. Lamby and Mr. Bah?" she whispered.

Killian nodded solemnly.

"Alas, I shall get them!" she said and threw her hand up in the air before she ran in the opposite direction.

"Oh no, darling, that's not what alas means," Killian said but it was too late; she was already gone. He moved back to his feet and met Emma's raised eyebrows with a soft chuckle. "Ah," he said.

"Are you gonna explain what the _hell_ that was about?" she said, trying to distract herself from her heart. She wasn't sure why it has started beating faster, but that's exactly what it had done as she'd watched him lower himself to Lizzie's level.

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. If Emma didn't know him any better, she'd say he was embarrassed. "Crazy dance time… ah. Well, it started as a little bit of fun. We both agreed that Lizzie should learn to dance, should any balls come up."

"In… Storybrooke?"

"Your parents are fantastic at throwing a good party. At least, Dave is." He leaned on the kitchen counter. "We agreed that I should teach her, since I'm an excellent dancer."

"You are?" Everything out of his mouth was a surprise. She couldn't imagine Captain Hook getting out his dancing shoes.

"As are you." His eyes sparkled.

"I am?"

"You have that yet to come."

At his words, her heart flipped. _You have that yet to come._ The way he said it made her life feel full of possibilities. She'd worried that finding out the truth would make her feel the opposite, like she was drowning. True, there was a little bit of drowning, but she also felt a slight buzz of excitement at her future prospects.

She shook her head. She was being stupid. She may have found out he was actually her husband, but he was still Hook. To her now, at least.

"So why is it crazy?"

"Because she's six. And 'slow, boring waltz' doesn't sound like much fun for a six year old."

Emma had to give him that one.

Lizzie came bounding back into the room, two stuffed toys under her arms. They were both lambs with black button eyes and little ribbons tied around their necks. Lizzie pulled out a chair for each of them, whispering to them as she placed them on the chairs in turn. What she was whispering, Emma didn't know. One look at Hook told her he didn't have any clue either.

That's when she whirled around and pointed directly at Hook. " _Daddy!_ Where's the music?"

"Oh! Right. Sorry, boss." With an 'oops' face directed at his daughter — _their_ daughter — he made his way over to the stereo and played about with some buttons. Within seconds, a slow tune was wafting out from the speakers and into the room. Killian turned back around, his eyes on Lizzie. He held out his arms.

She ran over, her hair bouncing as she did so.

"Do you remember what to do?"

"Yeah! I stand on your feet like this—"

And she proceeded to shuffle onto his boots, her tiny feet hardly covering his. She grasped his hook in one hand, and his hand in the other. Then she looked up at him and he gazed down at her. There was nothing in his eyes except pure, unfiltered love. Emma wasn't sure why she was just seeing it _now—_ it had been there all along.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice soft.

"I'm ready."

Then Hook took a step and Lizzie stepped with him, giggling as she did so. They took another step and then another and another, all in time to the music. The whole time Hook didn't take his eyes off the girl in front of him, not even to throw Emma a look. His lips curled up into a soft smile, and Emma found herself mirroring it. They both watched as Lizzie huffed out numbers, counting her steps.

"One-two, one-two, one-two…"

It continued on for some time but Emma didn't get sick of it. She joined Lizzie's audience halfway through, sinking into one of the chairs, watching them, eyes in awe. Captain Hook was not the monster she thought he was. She'd never seen him softer than in this moment, dancing with his daughter.

"You're improving," Hook told her. "I think the next step is the dress. What do you say, Swan?"

"She'd look beautiful."

"A true princess."

Emma could picture it, Lizzie and Hook whirling around the kitchen. Hook, in a royal tunic and Lizzie, in a sparkling white ball gown.

She almost cringed at herself. When had she gotten like this? She didn't care for ball gowns or dancing or _Hook._

And yet…

"I need to finish my homework now," Lizzie said, stepped off Hook's feet.

"Leaving so soon?" Hook teased. "We were just getting started."

Lizzie shook her head. " _Homework._ Anyway, it's mommy's turn to dance."

Emma's heart jolted. " _What?"_

"Come on, mommy," Lizzie said and rushed over to her. She took her hand in her own and tried to pull her to her feet. Of course, she was no match for Emma.

"I don't dance," Emma said.

"Yeah you do." Lizzie frowned. "You and daddy dance all the time." _Tug._

"Uh—"

"And it's really pretty—" She paused to yank on Emma again. Her next words were breathless with pulling. "And you look like a princess, mommy—" _Tug._ "And daddy looks like a prince— And I wanna see and I wanna watch."

"I thought you had homework?"

Emma threw a desperate look in Killian's direction and he quickly jumped to her defense. "Uh— Lizzie, I don't think Emma really wants to dance right now… And you should do your homework."

"Why, is she sick?" She said, disregarding the homework comment.

"No, she's not sick."

Lizzie gave up on her yanking when she realised it wasn't getting anywhere. She planted her feet firmly on the ground, folded her arms and glared at Emma with a look that reminded her completely of herself.

" _Please,_ " she whined.

Emma looked up at Hook and he just shrugged.

So that was how she found herself in his arms a few moments later. She placed one hand on his hook and he used the other hand to pull her closer, placed on the small of her back. It felt _too_ intimate and she didn't know where to look except his eyes. But when she _did_ look in his eyes, she felt like she could drown in them. They gave her that awful butterfly feeling, and that was something she couldn't afford to have.

At least Lizzie was happy. She sat down and clapped her hands, watching as they began to move on the kitchen floor, stepping in time.

He was too close and it was making her head dizzy. She swallowed and her mouth was strangely dry. Her stomach flipped as he pulled her even closer. If she had told herself a month ago that she'd be in the arms of Captain Hook, dancing, as he looked at her like he wanted to—

Like he wanted to what, exactly? She didn't know.

"I still don't know how to dance," she whispered, to distract herself more than anything.

"You're a natural."

He was smiling at her. It was a soft smile, so unlike the leering grin she had become accustomed to. This smile was full of promise. Love. The air felt thick. She was looking at his mouth too much. She tore her gaze back up to his eyes to find him staring at her with a certain wonder. He moved his hand from her back up to her face, brushing the back of it across the soft skin of her cheek. She closed her eyes at the touch, wondering why she was doing that, but being unable to stop herself.

When she opened her eyes again he was looking at her. His eyes dropped down to her lips, mouth slightly parted, breath coming quicker. They moved closer together simultaneously and Emma was screaming at herself _what are you doing?_

"Eww, please don't kiss," Lizzie said and they both jumped. Emma hadn't realised they'd stopped dancing. "That's gross and I'm going to do my homework." She hopped down from the chair and disappeared out the kitchen without another word.

Emma expected Hook to drop his arms and spring to the other side of the room, but he didn't. Neither did she. They were watching each other again. Then Hook let out a gentle laugh.

"I'm sorry. She can be a little…"

"Try full on." But the words were accompanied with a chuckle.

"Yes." He smiled, meeting her eyes again. That's when she realised they were still holding each other. He must have realised it too because he took a hasty step back, clearing his throat. He seemed so much… shyer. Nervous, even. Where was that confident man who believed he was God's gift to Earth?

"How does this work?" she asked, suddenly.

He blinked at her. "Sorry?"

"How does it work? You— me— our marriage? Everything?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "I thought we'd had this conversation?"

"Yeah we have but I was trying to… manipulate you." She dropped her eyes, surprised at the surge of shame she felt. She didn't think she'd ever feel shame where Hook was concerned. "But I mean how does _this_ work? You were so… flirty and— and _arrogant_." She almost winced at the words. She didn't want to offend him. "And now you're so..."

He laughed. "I'm still — how did you put it? — _flirtatious_ , darling." He looked at her with his hooded eyes as if to prove a point. "But I'm a gentleman and you're not my wife… yet." He shook his head. "All I mean is I don't wish to make you uncomfortable, Emma. Whether you had amnesia or whether you were from the past, that was never my intention."

"So you just… changed."

"I told you who changed me." His eyes were soft.

"But I don't understand," she said, gently. "I don't understand how or why. It's just, I haven't _seen_ it, y'know. Other Emma, future Emma, she can believe it because she's seen it."

"Why do I have the feeling I'm going to need a sizeable glass of rum for this conversation?"

Ten minutes later they were sat on the sofa, two glasses of rum placed on the coffee table in front of them. They were sat side-by-side, but Emma kept her distance. She didn't need another moment like earlier where she almost kissed him…

 _No._ She didn't almost kiss him. Lizzie had read the situation entirely wrong. It wasn't the first time kids had seen something that wasn't there.

"It was a long process," Hook said. "It took you a while to trust me. I told you we'd shared a kiss in Neverland, yes?" She nodded. "We all returned to Storybrooke safely but alas, safety is not a luxury for people like us and everyone was ripped from this land and taken back to the Enchanted Forest. Then, when another curse was on the way, I came to find you."

"You did?"

"That's how I proved to you that I'd changed." He took a sip of his rum. "Not that _that_ was why I did it. I didn't find you to _prove_ something, I did it because I knew I was in love with you." He said the words so matter-of-factly, it made her heart flip. She hated it; her body betraying her.

"What about now?" she asked in a small voice.

He frowned at her. "You're my wife. Of course I love you."

"No… no, I don't mean you. I mean the other you." She blushed to say the words. "The villain-you."

" _Oh._ " He smoothed his fingertips over his lips in thought. "Let me see. What state did you leave me in?"

"You're in prison. Well, you _were._ For shooting Belle, I mean."

"Ah," he murmured and his eyes glassed over with memories. "I remember." He paused, thinking and she waited patiently. Finally, he looked at her. "What am I feeling _now?_ Basic, simple attraction. At least, that's what I'm telling myself, but I know there's potential for more." He gave a slightly bitter smile. "I became excellent at turning it off, you know."

She frowned. "Turning what off?"

"My feelings. Not properly, no-one can do that, though I wished I could. Especially because of the guilt I felt."

Emma's eyes widened. " _Guilt?_ "

He set his rum glass back down on the coffee table. "Emma… at that point in time, I'm still telling myself I'm in love with Milah. That's why I'm doing these things; that's why I shot Belle. As strange as it may seem to you, it's because of love. I remember spending many nights laid awake on my ship, wondering why it was _your_ face I could see when I closed my eyes, and not Milah's. The guilt consumed me."

Silence. She rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms.

"I had no idea."

He shook his head. "I don't expect you would have."

They sat in silence for a moment. And then—

"When—" She faltered, feeling a flush rising to her cheeks.

He flashed her a look. "When?"

"When did you fall..." She trailed off again but he got what she meant.

"In love with you?" He sat back on the sofa, his eyes swimming with memories again. "Neverland. After that kiss, I knew. That's all it took, one kiss. I'd suspected for a while. And then we went to the echo cave and I was forced to admit it to myself. And to you." He frowned.

She hung on his every word, unable to keep her eyes off him.

"And when—" She swallows. "When did I…"

"Fall in love with me?" She nodded. "That, I don't know. I suppose I have _some_ idea, but I imagine it was slow, steady, not all at once like me. I let it consume me; you fought it for as long as you could."

 _Sounds like me_ , she thought, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa.

"But I fought for you," he continued. "And I followed you for _weeks,_ making eyes at you like a lovesick puppy." He shook his head. "It was ridiculous, what I became. I would have sold my soul if it meant you'd feel as I did."

He laughed softly and she found herself smiling with him.

"And then we got married."

"Well, it took a few years. But yes, we did."

"And then we had Lizzie."

He smiled. "Aye."

She picked up her glass of rum and took a sip. "I can't imagine myself ever having more children, not after Henry." She frowned. "But somehow I did?"

"That was, perhaps, my fault," he said, and his voice was barely audible. She looked over at him. "I— uh—" He scratched the back of his head. "Wanted a child more than anything in the whole world. After talking, after some time, so did you."

"Huh."

They talked like that for a good few hours, Emma asking questions and Killian answering as patiently as he could. It felt good to talk to him, rather than sulk and ignore him. She felt like she was seeing a side of him she'd never seen before. Of course, she hadn't.

And that was when she felt it.

His love for her. It came through with every word he said, with every question he answered. And for once, it didn't scare her.

* * *

 **I know I left this one a little long but the good news is... I already have the next chapter half-written so you'll get it very soon!**


	12. Henry's House

Henry's House

* * *

They stood in front of the door, Hook on one side of her, Lizzie on the other side of him, clutching his hook with her tiny fist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You don't need to be nervous, love." He placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. The touch surprised her. He hadn't touched her, not properly, since that dance. It didn't make her flinch away, but she still adopted her usual manner of hostility as she said, "I'm not nervous."

"Oh, aye?"

She turned to him, to see him raise his eyebrows at her, and promptly turned back to the front door. She eyed it with a dry mouth and wide eyes. It was painted off-white, but the colour was less than friendly. It seemed to loom over her.

Henry's house. The thought of entering his house was so strange to her, it made her mouth go dry. But there was no way to get out of it; he'd invited her for dinner almost a week ago. The time to pull out had passed.

She extended a hand towards the doorbell but millimeters before, pulled it away. She turned to him. "You're bothering me."

There went that other eyebrow. "I haven't said anything."

"Exactly my point."

"My… silence is bothering you?"

"It's saying a lot."

"So is yours."

She folded her arms and glared at him, but it only made him smile in that familiar, almost leering way. He leaned towards her. "Ring the doorbell, Swan."

"Yeah, ring the doorbell, Swan!" Lizzie repeated.

"I was going to."

Hook smirked. "Go on, then."

"I am. I'm doing it."

"Are you?"

Huffing out a sigh, she turned back to the door. She brought her fingertip to it again, trying to ignore the way her heart beat faster than usual. She tried to keep her hand steady as she pressed the little plastic button, but she still had to wipe her palms on her leggings.

"I'm right with you," he whispered into her ear.

She jumped. She hadn't expected him to be so close. She turned to scold him but before she could get a word out, the door opened and Emma was once again stricken with the sight of Henry. She had almost expected him to be that little eleven year old boy she left in the past, but he was just as grown up as the last time she saw him. And he looked _so_ handsome, all clean shaven and square jaw.

She opened her mouth and closed it again.

"Henry," Killian greeted and immediately the two embraced in a hug.

"It's good to see you, Killian." Henry smiled as he patted him on the back. Like with every exchange between Killian and the rest of the Storybrooke, it shocked her. She wondered if she'd ever get used to that; people treating Killian like a person and not a villain.

"Henry!" Lizzie chimed and jumped up into his arms. He laughed as he pulled her up into a hug.

"Hey kid, what's up?"

"The sky," they both said at the same time and proceeded to giggle. Emma looked between them, confused.

"Inside joke," Hook whispered.

Henry set Lizzie down on her feet and she ran into the house. Without another look back at her parents, she disappeared.

Henry opened his arms. "Mom, how're you doing?"

"I'm okay," she said, as she allowed herself to be enveloped in his arms.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

He pulled back. "I know this has gotta be so… strange for you, but it'll be okay. You're gonna love Violet."

She forced a smile. "I'm sure I will."

Violet wasn't the problem. It was the fact that her eleven year-old son wasn't eleven any more but instead, in the middle of starting a life with his girlfriend. A girlfriend, she hadn't even met yet.

She followed Henry into a small albeit cosy house; perfect for two people. The first word that came to mind was clean. There wasn't a speck of dust on the wooden hall table, or the wooden stairs and banister. The paintwork was a creamy-white, reminding her of her own house. _No,_ future Emma's house.

She kept walking, trying to keep her breathing even. _The worst was yet to come._ How was she supposed to convince Violet that she knew her when she didn't even know herself?

She kept her eyes on the back of Hook's leather jacket. It was stupid but that familiar item of clothing grounded her. No, not just the clothing. The familiarity of _him_ grounded her.

 _Come on, Emma,_ she wanted to scream at herself. She had fought a dragon, and she had defeated countless villains in her short time as the S word— _this_ shouldn't have scared her so.

But it did. She knew in her heart of hearts that she would rather have had another go at the dragon than meet Henry's girlfriend. Judging by the fact that they had just moved in, it was serious. Wasn't it Mary Margaret who stated that she might be hearing wedding bells soon?

 _But…_ he was only eleven. She still had to witness his teen years and high school and graduation for crying out loud. And now he was on the cusp of getting married? It made her feel a little sick when she thought about it, which she'd tried not to do. Up until this very moment.

Henry led them into a bright kitchen. Emma heard the sound of laughter and chatter wafting from the room, and it just made her feel even sicker. It wasn't only Violet she'd have to face, but her own parents.

But when Emma entered the room, she hardly even noticed her parents. Her eyes fell on a beautiful young woman, with long, dark hair and bright, friendly eyes. That must have been Violet. They locked eyes from across the room and Violet's face fell into a grin.

"Emma," she said with a smile and crossed the room. She opened her arms, almost to embrace her, but like some invisible force stopped her, she dropped them. "Oh, no, wait. You don't know me, do you? Henry explained," she added, and thrust a hand forward.

Emma shook her hand, surprised by the formality. She couldn't remember the last time she'd shook hands with someone. "It's nice to meet you."

"I'd say the same, but I've already met you. Years ago, actually. Wow, this is weird."

"You're telling me…" Emma muttered, withdrawing her hand. She was unable to take her eyes off Violet and for a moment, she just stared at her. That was until Henry cleared his throat and clapped his hands together.

"Drinks, anyone?"

Henry popped the cork on the bottle of champagne, to which Hook replied, "Don't mind if I do." Everyone laughed.

It was then that Emma noticed there were other people in the room; Regina, for one, and her parents, with Archie and Neal, who was chatting away to Lizzie. She caught sight of their sad expressions from across the kitchen. Mary Margaret opened her mouth to speak but Emma turned away from her, disappearing into the living room.

Hook followed her.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No." She kept her voice soft. "I mean, Violet seems lovely but she's shattering my view of Henry, y'know?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

She drew her lips in between her teeth. "No… Just… weird." Her eyes flickered up to meet his. "Just as long as they don't announce a baby or something, I'm good."

He laughed. "I think that's off the table."

They sat in the living room. Like the rest of the house, it had a cosy feel. The walls were mainly white again, but with one chocolate brown wall that matched mocha sofas. They were so comfy, Emma could sink in them. In fact, she very much felt like curling up and going to sleep. Maybe then she could sleep away this nightmare.

No one joined them for a few moments. It gave Emma time to collect her thoughts. Hook didn't say anything, which she appreciated. He may have been annoyingly impulsive and intrusive at times, but he seemed to sense when she needed silence. Perhaps it was something that came with a long-term marriage. Perhaps he just knew her.

Violet carried their drinks in; champagne for both of them, complete with a strawberry on the top of each glass. _Classy_ , Emma thought, as she accepted it.

"Perfect, love," Killian said with a grin as he accepted his own glass.

Emma noticed that Violet seemed to colour a little at his words, and she wondered why. That was when she realised; Hook had managed to charm her, just as he seemed to have charmed everyone else.

"How are you doing, Emma?" Violet asked.

"A lot better now that I have alcohol."

All three of them laughed and Emma felt it; the ice breaking. She felt her chest untighten a little, as she leaned back against the sofa cushions, and sipped on her champagne. "So what are we celebrating?"

"This isn't a celebration," Hook said, nodding to Violet. "Violet here doesn't have a glass. For it to be a celebration, everyone must have champagne."

Violet looked away from him, averting her eyes to the carpet. She moved her hair behind her ear and met their eyes again. "I'm not really a fan of it, to be honest."

"I'll have yours, then," Killian said.

Violet and Killian laughed again and Emma watched them, frowning. "Thought you were a rum person?" She had never seen him drink anything but rum.

"If it has alcohol in it, Killian will drink it."

"Don't I know it." And he proceeded to swallow half his champagne in one go.

Silence crept up on them again. Emma searched for the words in her mind, but came up blank. She wasn't sure what to say. Anything she _did_ say, would probably be repeating herself. She couldn't ask Violet about herself; they'd probably had conversations like that hundreds of times. She didn't want to comment on how lovely their house was; it wasn't the first time she'd been in there.

She opted for something safer.

"What's for dinner?"

"Henry's cooking spaghetti."

The words fell out of Emma's mouth before she could stop herself. "Henry _cooks?_ "

"Henry's a great cook. It's probably a good thing, since I'm terrible."

"It's true," Hook said. "I had his spaghetti bolognese once. Best bolognese I'd ever tasted. Apart from your ravioli," he added to Emma with a cheeky grin. "Though that is your mother's recipe."

"Speaking of Henry, I should probably go and give him a hand. Give me a shout if you want more champagne." She rose from her seat, brushing down her dress. She was still smiling as she left the room.

They weren't alone long. It was mere seconds before Mary Margaret came shuffling into the room, her head bowed slightly, a sheepish expression on her face. Emma felt her insides curl with guilt at the look, but she tried to keep her face hard. It was almost impossible when Mary Margaret fixed her big, brown eyes on Emma.

"What do you want?" Her tone was hostile.

Killian placed a hand on her arm and surprisingly, she knew what it meant. _Be gentle._

"I think we should… talk." Her eyes flickered to Killian and he cleared his throat, rising from his seat. Emma dragged him back down again.

"Oh no. If we're talking, he stays."

Once again, she was surprised. This time, at herself. Since when had she been so comfortable with Killian to do that? A few weeks ago she couldn't even look him in the eyes properly without a flicker of revulsion.

"You wanna talk," Emma said. "So talk."

Mary Margaret hesitated. She looked between Emma and Killian, but then she must have realised she didn't have a choice. So she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she began. Emma opened her mouth to argue. "I should have realised. I sensed something was off, honestly I did, but I was too blind to see it. I was kind of hoping we'd had our fill of problems, you know?" She managed a small smile.

"So that's what you saw me as? A problem?"

"No!" Her eyes widened. " _No._ Of _course_ not, Emma. You're my daughter; I love you. I just mean—" she sighed. "If what you were saying was true, then we'd have all these problems wrapped up into one. We'd have to find out _why_ you're here, _how_ you got here and how we can send you back. I just— I kind of— I don't know." She hung her head. "I'm ashamed."

Emma felt another curl of guilt. Her mother looked so pathetic, so sad with her head hung. "Look…" she began, folding her arms, rubbing at the goosebumps there. She was going to argue more, but another look at Mary Margaret's hung head made her change her mind. "Look, it doesn't matter."

"Yes. It does." She rose her head, eyes startlingly filled with tears. "We should have believed you. We should have trusted you, but we didn't."

Emma's eyes were wide with surprise. "It was kinda… crazy."

"And what isn't in this town?"

"Good point." Killian murmured.

"Please forgive me," Mary Margaret said. She crossed the room and took a seat on one of the other sofas. "Please. I can't bear the thought of arguing with you. Let me make it up to you."

"Just give me… time."

She nodded. "Time. I can do that. I can give you that."

"But Mary Margaret?"

She looked up.

"Don't expect me to trust you. Not for a while, at least."

* * *

They were just dishing up dinner when the doorbell rang. Everything looked and smelled delicious. Violet proudly announced that she'd prepared the salad (a bowl of lettuce on the table) and everyone laughed. Emma sat next to Killian, which provided her the perfect opportunity to cast suspicious glances at Regina. She didn't quite trust _her_ yet, either.

Lizzie was sat on her other side, chatting to Neal about school.

That was when the doorbell rang and everyone looked at each other.

"Probably Zelena," Regina said, looking over at Henry. "She texted me to tell everyone that she was going to be a little late."

"Right," he said. "I'll get it." He stood up and disappeared through the door.

Zelena. That was the wicked witch, right? God, it was hard to keep track of everything.

Henry returned seconds later, followed by Zelena herself, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. Emma noticed that she looked just as glamorous as she had before. Her long, red hair was curled, her eyes were dusted with make-up.

"Nice to see you waited for me," she commented, her eyes scouring the food on the table.

"Your timing was perfect," Henry said as he pulled out a chair for her. She threw him a smile as she settled into her seat.

"Glad to see you could make it," Regina said with a slow smile.

Zelena settled in her seat and everyone began dishing up at once. "Wouldn't miss it."

That was when the talking started— and didn't stop. Emma couldn't help but feel surprised. There were people in this room that she thought would not, in a million years, get on. Her dad and Hook being an example. But David seemed to have made a point of sitting next to Killian on purpose. Mary Margaret had gone for his side, but David had stopped her with a, "The pirate's next to me."

But the most baffling thing was Mary Margaret and Regina who sat close to each other, speaking about Archie.

"And he's sleeping _so well_ ," Mary Margaret was saying, as she cut into her roast beef. "Really beautifully. We had so much trouble with Neal as a baby—"

"Hey!" Neal piqued up.

"- just sleeping. It seemed to take him ages to get off but Archie falls asleep before his head hits the pillow."

"Have you tried chamomile in his milk?" Regina asked, taking a sip of her wine. "I find it soothes."

"I'll have to try that one."

It was remarkable that they could hold a friendly conversation after everything that had happened between them.

Nothing was said on Emma's situation, not with Lizzie in the room, but she could see Henry, Regina and Mary Margaret throwing her looks out the corner of her eye.

But at least it wasn't a tension filled silence. And she could manage to look at her parents without wanting to throw something at them, so that was a start.

It was towards the end of the meal that things started to take a turn. Emma began to notice how silent Henry and Violet had gone. As she watched them closely, she noticed that they threw little looks back and forth between them. At one point Henry even took Violet's hand. Then they shared a look that Emma had to look away from.

Eventually, after another round of drinks, Henry cleared his throat. The chatter died out almost instantly and everyone turned to him.

"This has been a great night, hasn't it?" he began, somewhat awkwardly. Emma was glad to see that _some_ part of his youth still remained.

"There's actually more than one reason why we invited you round." He shared another look with Violet and they smiled shyly at each other. "We have an announcement to make."

Emma's eyes flew to Violet's left hand. No ring.

Everyone's eyes were on them. Henry swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down. He cast another nervous look to Violet. The silence seemed to stretch on. And then:

"Well…" He gave a smile and a shrug. "We're expecting."

" _What?"_ Emma said but her words were drowned out by a chorus of congratulations. Regina was the first to reach them, hugging Henry and then Violet, who seemed to be turning bright red.

"That's _amazing_ news, you two," Mary Margaret said. She pulled Violet into a big hug.

David clapped him on the back with a, "Congratulations, guys."

Emma, whose mouth had turned dry, turned to Killian, wondering if he was as shocked as she. But he was grinning up at Henry and Violet, light in his eyes. He must have felt her eyes on him because he turned to her. His face immediately dropped into one of concern.

"You alright?"

She nodded mutely, but she couldn't compute how her son, Henry, her eleven year old boy was suddenly grown up and expecting a child with this… woman she barely knew. It was too weird for her. Her head was so full she hardly realised that everyone was looking at her.

"Mom?" Henry asked.

She rearranged her face to a smile. "Congratulations. That's amazing."

Henry breathed out a sigh of relief. He threw an arm around Violet's shoulders and pulled her to him, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"Thanks everyone," Violet breathed, grinning, still blushing. "Anyway, we should dish up desert. Henry's made Apple crumble. It's in the oven."

She left the room, her face glowing like a fire. Through her haze of shock, Emma got the impression that she wasn't quite enjoying her time in the limelight, as happy as she was.

Henry, still grinning, took a swing from his wine glass.

"How far along is she?" Mary Margaret asked, her eyes glowing with light.

"About twelve weeks," Henry said. "She's known for a while but we wanted to be sure before we told you, y'know. We had our first scan the other day. It was amazing."

"Aye, it always is. Nerve wracking though. I remember when Emma and I had our first scan. I was shaking so much I could hardly stand. Do you remember…" But he trailed off because no, she did not. Killian cleared his throat. "Nevermind."

There was an awkward silence.

It was Zelena who broke it.

"So when's the next pirate sprog coming along?" she demanded.

Emma tried not to choke on her drink.

Everyone glared at Zelena, but she just shrugged, uncaring, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.

"Zelena," Regina hissed.

Zelena gave another shrug. "What?" Then she threw them a dark smile. "You're going to have to start getting it on soon, you know. What if you're stuck here forever?"

"She won't be," Hook said, conviction in his voice. He wasn't looking at Emma, his hand closing around his wine glass.

But Zelena's comment stayed with Emma the rest of the way home, even as Lizzie turned to them and asked what Henry and Violet were expecting.

 _What if you're stuck here forever._

* * *

 ** _Hey guys, sorry it took so long! I think one of the main reasons I've not been feeling this is because I wrote Strange Places before season 7 and now I know the future is completely different to how I imagined it. But I forgot how much I loved this fic so expect more updates! Thank you for reading - let me know what you think :)_**


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